


Love is Love is Love

by SincerelyVera



Category: Harry Styles - Fandom, One Direction (Band), Panic! at the Disco, brendon urie - Fandom
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Sugar Daddy, Alternative Lifestyles, Anal Play, Anal Sex, Angst, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Arguing, Bickering, Blow Jobs, Bottom Harry, Boys Kissing, Cat, Cats, Christmas, Christmas Angst, Christmas Fluff, Class Differences, Comfort, Crossover, Crossover Pairings, Domestic, Domestic Fluff, Drinking, Eventual Romance, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, French Kissing, Honesty, Hurt/Comfort, Jealous Brendon Urie, Jealous Harry, Jealousy, Kissing, Light Angst, London, M/M, Makeup, Multiple Crossovers, Opposites Attract, Pillow Talk, Poor Harry Styles, Rimming, Romantic Fluff, Romantic Soulmates, Sex, Shameless Smut, Smut, Soulmates, Student Harry Styles, Sugar Daddy, Sugar Daddy Brendon, Surprise Kissing, Talking, Top Brendon Urie, United Kingdom
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-12
Updated: 2019-11-03
Packaged: 2020-05-02 07:55:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 21
Words: 86,722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19194799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SincerelyVera/pseuds/SincerelyVera
Summary: “I don’t try to be mean.” He confessed, unsure of why he was so determined to continue this streak of honesty with a student he barely knew. “I’m just constantly working, so it’s constantly on.”Harry seemed to appreciate this, his expression softening significantly at his words. “It doesn’t have to be..” He told him after some consideration. “..constantly on.”------One is a poverty-stricken, second-year university student. Another is a multi-millionaire who eats, sleeps, and breathes work.Harry is dedicated to his siblings, the father figure in a family of five ever since his mother and father left one day to get a pack of smokes.. and never returned.When push comes to shove, he has to decide.. survival or pride?





	1. Desperate Times

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry Styles has been attending the Imperial College London for the past two semesters. Only a couple weeks into the third, he receives grave news. Will this be the end of his last chance at a brighter future?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! If you're seeing this, you've clicked on a link to my first-ever chapter to my first-ever work on AO3.
> 
> Firstly.. thank you!
> 
> Secondly, I appreciate it if you decide to read on. If not, that's cool too. This is an idea I've been toying around with in my head for a while now, and for whatever reason, I decided to give it a go. I have several chapters typed out that I'll continue to post for as long as the motivation finds me/people express interest.
> 
> Disclaimer: I'm in no way British. I'm as American as you can get, so I apologize if my attempt at slang is horribly executed. I'm hoping to get better with time!
> 
> Hope you enjoy it!

_‘..and so you want to make sure that the code is completely..'_

Some distance away, a bird was singing its mating call, the tune carrying through an open window the instructor had left ajar due to the unnatural heat in early October. A chill would’ve normally fallen over the city this time of year, despite the the southern advantage London held over its neighboring cities. Compared to the rest of Europe, it was still uncomfortably north.

But not that Thursday afternoon.

_‘..now the projects are due the first week of November..’_

The sound of wood clattering against tile floor had pulled the nineteen-year-old from his reverie and emerald eyes slowly wandered the room till it was meeting a pair of chestnut irises directly in front of him. The girl’s brunette hair cascaded down her shoulders and a determined finger tucked a lock behind her ear before she was gesturing towards the ground.

“Oi.. d’you mind?”

His eyes followed her movement till it was locking on the object in question, a pencil that had been sharpened so often the lead seemed to be hanging onto the remainder of the wood like a thread.

Bending forward, the male swiped the writing utensil from where it’d fallen, rolling just a few inches away from his battered Converse, before holding it out to her.

“Cheers.. Um?”

“Harry.”

“Harry.” Her lips parted to show pearly whites, the grin clearly one the girl had been rehearsing for a while and it wasn’t until the earthy orbs had grown even wider in size that he realized where his manners had been lacking 

“And you-?" 

“Maybelle. But my mates call me May.. You can call me May.”

_‘..that’s all we have time for today..’_

As if everyone had been waiting for it, the minute they’d sensed any sort of finality in the instructor’s tone the sounds of shutting laptops and notebooks filled the room, and Harry quickly gathered his own things in order to make a swift exit.

It wasn’t until he was well on his way towards the common area of the technologies building that he realized the very same girl with slippery fingers was at his side. 

“Harry, yeah?”

His gaze, which had been fixed on a note he’d received from his adviser earlier that day, flickered back towards the same pair of chestnut eyes which seemed to be staring back at him with the same fervor as they had mere minutes ago.

“Some girls in my house are throwing a party tomorrow night -- just a casual hang about -- you should come ‘round, yeah?”

Unsure of whether or not this was a request, Harry stared back at her quizzically. Luckily, the girl -- May, if he was remembering correctly -- had already pulled a slip of paper out of nowhere and was using the same, extremely short pencil to scribble on it hastily.

“Here’s the address of our house. Come about half nine?”

“Er-”

“See you then!”

Before he could cut in, May was already disappearing in the crowd, the flow of students emerging from neighboring classes that just ended obscuring his view of her. 

Shoving the note in his back pocket distractedly, Harry had returned his gaze back to the slip of paper from his advisor. A certain phrase had stuck out to him the most:

 _Imperial College London  
_ _Financial Services_

An uncomfortable twist made itself known in the pit of his stomach, and the Brit skimmed over the remainder of the note for what was probably the thousandth time that day.

_The dean of finances requests your presence to discuss some inconsistencies in your prescribed payment plan. The office is open weekdays from 8am till 4pm._

Another uncomfortable lurch. His left wrist twisted inwards, flashing the face of an old, analog watch and he deciphered the time.

 _3:15._  

Crumpling the paper in his hand, Harry shoved the note into his back pocket and made his way down the crowded hall, weaving his way in between and around bodies till he was registering large, silver letters on the side of a brick building at the end of the hallway.

 _Financial Services_  

Upon entering, the first thing Harry noticed was the absolute cleanliness. A hint of pumpkin wafted with the breeze emitting from the AC and he couldn’t help but be reminded of waiting rooms of another variety -- far colder, less inviting.

“I’m, er, here to see the Dean.”

Manicured nails clicked away at an expensive keyboard, and the sound filled the nearly empty waiting room for a few brief seconds before the middle-aged receptionist was tearing her gaze away from the desktop computer screen and locking with his own. 

“Which dean, dear?”

“Er..” Frantic fingers went digging into the pockets of his denim jeans, patting away till he was locating the personalized note and skimming the header. “Mister.. Russo.. I think.”

“Russo - just right up here, at the end of the hall. You can head right in, dear.” 

Poorly glossed lips pulled into what he could only assume she had intended to be a warm smile and Harry’s eyes followed the direction she’d gestured towards before he was following said path.

The hallway was uncomfortably narrow, and the Brit had to accommodate by bringing the worn-down backpack even closer to his side, the opposite, broken strap whipping against door knobs and tall plants as he glimpsed the silver plaques labelling each door. 

 _Mr. Theodore Russo  
_ _Dean of Financial Services_

He’d come to a stop at the very end of the hall and eyed the engraved letters on the door tag before knocking.

“It’s open!”

The voice was chipper, welcoming even, and Harry did his best to keep that in mind as he pushed on the heavy wooden door.

“Erm.. I’m Harry. My adviser said you’d sent for me.”

“Harry.. Last name?” 

A man, looking to be in his early thirties, was already tapping away at his keyboard. A pink button-down fastened up to the very collar was hugging a fit torso, decorated by an even more rambunctious green bow tie.

“Styles.. Second year.”

His brunette hair ended in a cowlick parted to the side, the strands made it clear that gel had been generously applied and a well-groomed beard complimented a sharp jawline.

“Ah, yes. Harry Styles.. Here we are.. Take a seat.”

The command was surprisingly demanding despite his cheery tone and it was only then that Harry realized he had been hovering awkwardly by the door.

“You’re an engineer major?”

“Software, yeah..”

“And this is your third semester?”

“Yeah. Correct.”

The light pouring in from open blinds behind the neat desk seemed like a spotlight just then and Harry grew increasingly aware of how the rays reflected against the faded green backpack on his lap, the broken zipper across the front pocket shimmering to the point where he resorted to placing the bag on the ground between his legs instead.

“Okay, so I’m noticing a few problems here..” Mr. Russo’s eyes flickered back to the LED screen of the computer and long, slender fingers used the mouse to scroll through what Harry could only assume was his file. “You’d received a scholarship last year and paid off the remainder of your tuition with a few loans..”

The slight pause had stretched into seconds and dark brown eyes expectantly met his. 

“Yes. That’s correct.” Harry piped in, nodding vigorously to show he’d been following.

“We, unfortunately, don’t seem to have a solid payment plan for this year however.”

“Sorry?”

“The scholarship only qualified for the 2015-2016 school year-”

“I’m sorry.. I was told it would carry on for all four years.” Harry straightened up in his seat, his grip on his backpack strap tightening instinctively as his mind struggled to keep up.

Thick eyebrows knitted together in a tight furrow as the dean continued to click away on his computer and Harry, now realizing just how silent the office was, sincerely hoped the hammering behind his chest wasn’t audible to the man across from him.

“According to your file.. It says here you were granted The Gordon Ray Scholarship Fund, accrediting five grand to your tuition aid..” He’d fallen silent for another moment, eyes racing from one end of the screen to the other repeatedly until his lips were parting once again. “..For your first year. Pending extension depending on your academic performance. I’m afraid your grade point average fell short spring semester, Mister Styles. You no longer qualify.”

The dean’s eyes continued to wander down the screen before meeting Harry’s, as if preparing to be countered once again.

Harry’s grip on the strap had loosened slightly and he could feel the breeze from the AC, the coldness making him realize how sweaty his palms had become. His eyes had been darting from the note, still crumpled in his opposite hand, to the dean across from him, and he was almost positive helplessness decorated his features. 

The dean’s thick eyebrows relaxed into slight understanding and his chestnut gaze flickered from the screen back to him.

“I’m sorry if you were under the wrong impression here, but I’m afraid you didn’t perform up to standard.. There’s still good news, however..”

The deep voice seemed to fade into the background as Harry’s mind worked furiously, the seriousness of the situation dawning on him as the financial adviser continued to spew numbers his way as if on autopilot. 

Harry was aware he hadn’t done particularly well in his first year, but he’d _passed_. To his and his older sister’s surprise, the hard work had actually pulled off. All those sleepless nights and hours spent riding uphill on a beaten-down bike hadn’t been all for naught.. till then.

“..I can extend the deadline for you, but if we don’t get that first payment by this date, I’m afraid you’ll no longer be enrolled with us.”

Harry’s gaze flickered back towards the dean who was scribbling something lazily on a slip of paper. This was extended to him moments later and he took it in hand before pushing himself out of the wooden chair.

“I look forward to hopefully seeing you again, Mister Styles.”

The same, semi-genuine smile the receptionist had sent his way was flashed from behind a groomed beard and Harry returned it half-heartedly before making his exit. He hadn’t glanced at the slip till after making his way into the now-empty hallway of the technologies building, and hovered by a particularly large plant so he could eye the note. 

_Fee: 849. 99_

Ignoring the intense sinking in the pit of his stomach, Harry then glanced at the deadline.

_13 October 2016_

A week from today. The day he’d turn twenty. The slip was shoved into his back pocket as Harry slung the backpack strap over his shoulder and he tried his best not to allow the helplessness to overcome him.

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had even an _eighth_ of that kind of money, let alone the entire amount. Suddenly, the concern behind how he’d break the news of not wanting to attend overly-enthusiastic May’s party the following night seemed incredibly insignificant and he began to wonder how many lawns he’d have to mow in the next seven days to manage to worm his way out of this crater-sized hole. 

_Happy birthday to me._

Focusing in studio had become a near-impossibility, mind zeroing in on the impending doom that was his future becoming no more. 

“Mate.”

Missing a stroke on his self-portrait, Harry erased the entirety of his nose, realizing how the reflection in the small mirror he’d been using for reference had been drastically different from what he’d copied onto paper. 

“Oi.. _Harry_.”

“Hm?”

“Yo’right?”

Finally looking away from his half-finished sketch, Harry met the ocean gaze of his best friend, Alfie, who was already shading in his own self-portrait placed on the easel next to his.

“You’ve been sketching that nose for the past half hour, H.”

“Mm? Yeah..” Harry returned his attention back to the canvas whose paper was wearing away at an exponential rate. “M’fine.”

“You sure?” Alfie slipped his pencil behind his ear so he could tug Harry’s from his steely grip. “Don’t reckon you can afford any more massive paper, mate.. let alone regular.”

The sort of poor joke that would’ve earned at least a smile from him had only intensified the sinking feeling in the pit of Harry’s stomach. “Don’t reckon it matters.”

“‘Course it does. You keep landing Bs and you’ll be top of the class come the end of, like, fourth year.”

“Won’t be making it to year four.. Won’t be making it to the end of the month.” Harry impatiently swiped his pencil back from Alfie before attempting the frame of his nose again.

“You already planning on dropping out? Didn’t take you for a quitter, mate-”

“They’re gonna chuck me out, Alf.” Harry cut him off, an exasperated sigh escaping his lips as his fingers resorted to twisting at the pencil instead.

A glance towards his best friend showed an expression of utter shock, one that made Harry no more compelled to elaborate on the situation.

“My scholarship.. I did shit in all my other classes so I don’t qualify anymore.. Have to come up with the cash or else..” He shrugged, returning back to the nose which was looking less and less humane with every attempt. “..It’s back to delivery every night for shit tips and even more shit hours..”

“Well.. how much you need?”

The determination in Alfie’s voice caused a pang of annoyance to surge through him, and Harry resisted the urge to snap then and there.

“850.” 

_“850?”_

“By next week, so..” Completely giving up on the nose, Harry glanced at his reflection in the tiny mirror for a moment. Dark circles were already beginning to form under bright green irises, long lashes framing the almond-shaped eyes. A few strands of hair were visible above thin, pink lips which were rosier than usual due to all the nipping and biting they’d been enduring over the past few hours. A lick of brunette hair had wandered between thick, brown eyebrows and loose curls framed the features that created his face.

Harry knew he was conventionally attractive, his looks had helped him get out of particularly precarious situations in the past, and he would’ve been lying had he said he hadn’t used them to his advantage a handful of times. Now, in his somber state, his reflection seemed less-flattering. A trick of the mind, but real enough in his eyes.

“Have you tried Craigslist?”

Unsure of whether or not Alfie had been speaking the entire time, Harry looked away from the mirror and back to his best friend who’d already continued shading in a self-portrait that looked even more real than himself. He’d always been good at art.

“Shady jobs?”

“It’s not..” Alfie visibly hesitated, the smallest smile dancing on his lips. “..okay, it’s a _bit_ shady. But it’s easy money.” 

“Not trying to get _literally_ done in, mate. Want to live till my next birthday, thanks.” Harry had returned to his own sketch, the drawing looking more and more C-worthy the longer he worked on it. 

After erasing his right eye for the fifth time, Harry couldn’t resist the curiosity any longer and broke the silence between them. “What sort of..? I’m not trying to shag a freak or have a wank in front of anyone or anything.. Don’t need to pick up STDs along with more debt.”

“It’s not all sex stuff.”

“So what is it? You’re not being very specific.”

“Shit, H. I don’t know.” Alfie shrugged, clearly exasperated. “I’ve only done.. like, yard work. Easy shit. But the pay wasn’t that impressive. You’ll have to go digging for more pricey stuff.” 

“How much were you making?” Harry had completely abandoned the project at that point, a tiny glimmer of hope at the end of an otherwise dark tunnel.

“Yard stuff? Like, five an hour.”

“Five?” Harry began doing the mental math in his mind before realizing that even if he _did_ work constantly with no breaks until the following week, there still wouldn’t be enough to pay off everything. 

“But the stranger jobs, well, one girl I know went over a lad’s house, right?” Alfie had also abandoned his work by then, and thanks to the music coursing through the room he didn’t have to lower his voice much, only leaning in slightly to continue. “He paid her  _fifty_ an hour to clean his house.”

“To _clean_?”

“In a super slutty maid outfit, yeah.”

The math was easier to do on that one. Harry did his best to contain his excitement, that is, till he remembered a slight detail. “But.. she’s a _girl_. I don’t exactly qualify, Alf.” 

“Yeah, but think about how much _more_ they’d pay _you_.” 

“You’re mad.”

“ _Fifty_ , H. _Fifty_ an hour. After a few days you’d be set.”

“I’m not wearing heels and a tiny skirt. That’s.. too much.”

“But-”

“Drop it.” 

Alfie had returned to his work, not bringing the topic up for the rest of studio. Harry, however, had much more trouble. Even after parting ways with the broad-shouldered, messy-haired brunette an hour later, he couldn’t get the numbers out of his mind.

Against his better judgement, Harry wandered over to the library, choosing the computer at the far end of the room. After scanning the area, ensuring there were no prying eyes, he opened an incognito tab and pulled up the website.

Through initial browsing, he’d seen all the jobs Alfie had described earlier, five an hour, some ten, but none of them nearly enough to pay off the debt by the date that seemed to be looming over his head like a dark cloud.

The one link he’d been avoiding was the only one left colored in blue in a sea of purple and after a moment of deliberation, he opened up the _etc / misc_ section. 

 _Refined cam job_.. _Wanted woman who wants to conceive child during totality eclipse_.. _Amusement: 2 hours_.. _Come fuck my robot_..

The dread that had lightened ever since the conversation half an hour ago seemed to return the more Harry scanned the scandalous list.. That was, till something caught his eye. 

_Needed: Male cross-dresser. 21-25. £500._

Alfie’s words echoing in some distant chamber in his mind, Harry clicked on the advertisement, bracing himself for potential disappointment.

_Looking for a male between the ages of 21 and 25 to model clothing for a photoshoot. Cross-dressing required. Will receive half of payment upon arrival and the rest upon departure._

The entry was short and promise of payment convincing, though the discussion he’d had with Alfie earlier that day still filled him with apprehension. It was as Harry was looking for contact details that he noticed a post-script which seemed to be the extra push of motivation he’d silently been hoping for.

_Potential for bonus pay if you can speak in front of the camera comfortably._

Bonus pay.

Assuming the face behind the poster was as generous as they were presenting themselves, Harry knew he could potentially be walking away from the experience debt-free.. At least till the next deadline.

The entire thing seemed too good to be true however, and Harry spent a few moments first glancing around to ensure there were no wandering eyes, then skimming over the short post once again, as if looking for a hint of fraudulence or insincerity between the lines. The same word seemed to catch his eye however.

_£500._

The question of his age was one he could answer later, assuming the person behind the uncanny request was just as desperate as he was, which -- by the look of things and the price they were willing to pay -- they were. After taking in his surroundings once more, Harry copied the email address, opened up the inbox in his student portal, and began to type.

 

*

 

“..Doesn’t matter. By the end of the day, I want him out of this building. I don’t have time for ineptitude. End of discussion.”

“Yes, sir.”

The glass door swung shut as one of the CEO’s many assistants made his leave and dark eyes returned to the illuminated iMac on his impressively large desk.

One glance at his work inbox showed he still had a good amount to go through, though he was only halfway through the newest message when the glass door at the opposite end of the spacious room was swinging open once again. 

“Hugo’s sent Tyler P. -- the VP of communications -- off and you need to check your inbox.. your alternative one.” Though still professional, his personal assistant’s tone was far more relaxed than anyone else’s in the building. Her long, blonde ponytail danced behind her as she floated towards the desk and placed a stack of files into his grip. “Oh, and Brendon..” Lightly glossed lips stretched into a teasing, teeth-baring grin. “Smile.”

“Alternative inbox?” Brendon glazed over the playful comment without acknowledgement, skimming the first page of the top file to absorb its contents before setting it aside and typing away.

“For the.. arrangement.” Hayley’s eyebrows had said it all, raising a few centimeters as if to silently accentuate the importance of the situation before her chestnut gaze was flickering back to the tablet in her arm.

“How many takers?”

“A lot.. We’re looking at upwards fifteen legitimate ones this time around.”

“Well, narrow it down.” Brendon had returned to his emails by then, getting back to the message he’d only gotten halfway through replying to when Hayley’s voice was pulling his attention once again. 

“Photos? That’s.. fishy.”

“Fishy? The whole thing’s fishy. Just.. ask for a regular portrait and choose the most aesthetically pleasing. Use the burner email on the encrypted server and delete them right after.” He hadn’t taken his eyes off the message which he’d continued typing a reply to. 

The response had seemed like enough, the eurasian already tapping away on the tablet on her way out of the expanse office.

“Oh, and _Mister Urie_.” She’d paused, slender fingers wrapping around the handle of the door. “Aesthetically pleasing? Just say pretty.”

By the time the CEO was making his exit out of the large building, the sun had been down for well over an hour. And as he was driven back to his penthouse, he skimmed over the shortened selection Hayley had sent him, each contender listed along with the photo and information included in the email. 

He hadn’t taken a closer look at the details till after he’d arrived at home, a penthouse on the top floor of Rathbone Square, a residential building for the most affluent businessmen and women in the London area.

His chef was already busy at work preparing dinner upon entering his home. Brendon merely gave a nod of acknowledgement to Hayley, who’d settled herself on the island in the middle of the kitchen and was typing away on her Macbook Air, before disappearing to his bedroom to change.

Brendon was emerging minutes later, clad in soft, dark joggers and a plain white tee -- casual wear no one other than those who worked in his personal home ever caught him in.

“What’s on, Joaquim?” He asked the chef who was zooming from one end of the kitchen to the other, putting the finishing touches on a dinner for two he was more than accustomed to preparing for the specific pair by now. 

“Loaded cauliflower with chives, cheddar cheese, bacon, and a touch of sour cream, Mister Urie. And a side of kale salad with butternut squash, chickpeas, and tahini dressing.” 

Brendon was already elbow deep in his wine cabinet, pulling out a vintage Pinot Noir and pouring himself a glass before settling in the seat next to Hayley.

“You’ve taken a look at the selection?” She asked, already shutting her laptop and pulling out a file containing the headshot-esque photos the chosen candidates had sent over. 

“Only one caught my eye.” Brendon watched her shuffle through them before stopping her flipping on a particular picture. “He looks sufficient.”

“Yeah? His name’s Matthis..” She lifted the photo, a portrait of a blonde male with bright hazel eyes, plucked eyebrows, and light pink lips. By quality it seemed to be professionally taken -- for reasons unknown. “A little skinny though, isn’t he? Too.. _feminine_.”

Brendon brought the wide wine glass to his lips, taking a generous swig before eyeing the photo again. It ended mid-torso, preventing him from picturing what lay below.

“How about this one?” Hayley flicked between the other two photos before pulling one out, this time of a brunette. The quality was much worse comparably, but his features stood out just the same -- subtle, high cheekbones, rosy lips, and thicker eyebrows. “This is..” She skimmed the name on the back. “..Harry.” 

Brendon had eyed the photo for a few moments, taking notice of the slight smirk littering the soft features. “No.” Then cast it aside. “Too arrogant.”

“Arrogant?” Hayley eyed the photo once again, tilting her head from side to side and sending her high pony swinging as if the varying angles would help. “It’s a photo, Brendon.”

“I can tell.”

“You can _tell_?” Her shrill, light-hearted laughter bounced off the walls and high ceiling before she was giving the picture one last glance then setting it aside. “Fine.. Ooo, okay. Him.” 

The final one was of another brunette, hair grown and groomed past his shoulders. He was clearly comfortable in front of the camera, the body language suggesting he’d been doing the sort of thing for a while. 

“The hair might help.” Hayley defended his case, gesturing towards his well-groomed appearance and nodding in approval. “Theodore.. Figgs.” She skimmed the name on the back of the photo, eyebrows raising impressively.

“They wouldn’t like that.” Brendon had drained the remainder of the red wine from his glass before taking the headshot in hand.

“No?” 

“The long hair. They hate that.” He gestured towards the long locks. “It’s against what they believe in.”

“ _That’s_ what they’re concerned about? Not the fact that they’re dressing like women?” Hayley couldn’t hide the grin dancing on her glossed lips, eyeing the picture with interest.

“Fuck if I understand it. I’m merely the acquirer.” Brendon was pouring himself more Pinot Noir at that point, only pausing briefly to watch Joaquim prepare plates, the smell of dinner in the air.

“So if he’s too _feminine_.. then the blonde..” Hayley pulled up the first photo. “Matthis.. is too?”

After another generous swig, Brendon took both photos in hand, gaze flickering from one to the other before he was setting them down. “Who was that other one again?”

“Mister Overconfident..” Hayley pushed the third picture towards Brendon who was now eyeing all three in deliberation. “Harry.. Styles.”

“Would you like me to keep supper on the warmer, Mister Urie?” The chef had asked, clearly aware of the fact that they were still working.

“No.” Brendon had answered Joaquim without hesitation, stacking the photos and setting them aside in preparation for the meal. He jerked his head at Hayley in acknowledgement as he spread a napkin over his lap. “Call him.”


	2. Desperate Measures

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“I.. own a lot of things.” Brendon’s answer had come as a surprise to Harry who had only been expecting silence in return, and he tore his gaze away from the view to eye Brendon curiously._   
>  _“What things?”_   
>  _“I can’t tell you that.”_   
>  _“Why not?”_   
>  _For a moment, Brendon didn’t respond, amusement etched on his features as Harry determinedly held his gaze. “I’d be putting myself in jeopardy.”_   
>  _Harry realized he was being rude, prying so much, but he’d blame it on the alcohol later. “Is it, like.. legal?”_   
>  _Brendon laughed._   
>  _It wasn’t a hearty bellow or carefree like Hayley’s -- merely a chuckle one would give a little child after making a ridiculous assumption -- but he was smiling nonetheless. It was slightly endearing._   
>  _“Yes, it’s legal.”_

“You sure about this, mate?” Alfie spared Harry a glance between sentences, his poorly-sharpened number two pencil scribbling nonsense on a worksheet that was undoubtedly due next period considering how quickly he’d been writing.

“What choice do I have?” Harry had spent that entire day battling nerves.

After receiving an email back from the mysterious poster requesting a portrait photo of himself, he’d been convinced he had the job in the bag. They’d scheduled the session rather quickly, which had come as a shock to Harry who assumed he’d be waiting much longer than merely twenty-four hours to acquire the payment.

And possibly: bonus.

“Alright, well..” Alfie paused at the door of his art history lecture, bringing them to a halt before extending a hand. “..in case this is the last time I see you..”

“Fuck off.” Harry shoved Alfie roughly on the shoulder who cackled shamelessly.

“D’you need my switchblade? How’re you even gettin’ there?”

“Nah, no. It’s just twenty minutes out by bike. Tottenham Court Road.”

 _“Tottenham Court Road?”_ Alfie’s eyebrows raised slightly in amusement. “At least if you’re done in, it’ll be by a rich bloke. Probably gut you with a fifty karat dagger or summat-”

“You’re a prick. Go to class.” Harry shot back just as the bell was ringing, patting him on the arm in finality.

“Oi, meet me at the park tomorrow? Tell me about it?” Alfie hollered as Harry made his way down the hall.

“Can’t! Watching Emmy and Ollie!” He bellowed back, only to receive the middle finger in response before his best friend was following the flow of students into the classroom.

Thankfully, the weather was agreeable that afternoon -- thick, pewter-gray clouds keeping a firm grasp on rain which undoubtedly would’ve drenched him had it decided to fall. Having been trained in the art of biking far distances, making it to the square had been a breeze. It was navigating the busy streets that had been the difficult part, Friday evening the worst possible time of the week -- just behind Saturday -- to be in such a popular plaza.

Upon reaching the more central part of the area, Harry was forced to unmount his bike, walking it the rest of the way as he weaved through the crowds. He’d only visited the affluent shopping epicenter a handful of times in his life, despite having lived in the area for the better part of his nineteen years on earth, which made resisting slowing down and absorbing the lights, stores, and music that much more difficult.

The closer Harry got to the address, however, the more anxious he became. The buildings only seemed to get taller, decoration more luxurious, and security tighter until he was approaching a building littered with pedestrians donned in clothing that was probably worth more than everything his family owned altogether.

The crowds of people thinned as he approached the location he’d scribbled onto a spare piece of paper, and two guards standing watch by a door eyed his movements. Instead of sparing them a glance, he secured his bike to a nearby tree and deciphered the lettering above the entrance.

_Rathbone Square_   
_London W1_

As he approached the door, both guards stepped inwards, barring his way.

“I, er, need to get in.”

It was clear, even to Harry, how far fetched the request must have seemed. His reflection in the crystal-clear glass doors said as much -- the battered jeans loosely hugging his hips, faded gray tee shirt, and worn black converse screaming poor in the loudest manner possible.

“Please, I’m meeting someone.”

“Who? The help?” One of the guards clearly couldn’t resist shooting back, earning a hearty laugh from the other member of security.

Harry could feel his face grow hot as their chortles bounced off the walls, magnified impressively, and was moments away from turning his back on the entrance so he wouldn’t be in view of his own rapidly reddening complexion before the automatic doors were sliding open and an extremely pretty female of asian descent was coming into view.

“Harry?” Her American accent was the second thing he noticed, after her striking features. The guards had glanced towards her, only to look briefly back at Harry to ensure it was he she had been speaking to before immediately taking their previous positions on either side of the entrance. “Hi! I’m Hayley.” Her lips pulled into a warm smile, flashing perfect, pearly-white teeth. “Follow me.”

Ignoring the guards’ dumbfounded expressions, Harry followed the woman in, doing his best not to allow his eyes to wander downwards as she strutted ahead -- high, blonde pony swinging in her wake. A burst of air conditioning hit him upon entering the building, and his surroundings had effectively stolen his attention, leaving the student temporarily speechless.

The lobby was even more impressive than the exterior, the earthy-brown color palette effectively making him feel at home -- as much as someone of _his_ social class could in that sort of place, at least -- impressive furniture glistening under overpriced lamps and a bookcase stacked high at the far wall, adorned with what he could only assume were priceless works.

“You’re early.” Hayley broke the silence once they’d reached the elevator, a manicured nail pressing a button that’d send them upwards.

“Yeah? Sorry.” Harry apologized hastily as a light ding filled the air, and the doors opened in seconds. He glanced at his watch while her back was turned, noticing it was ten minutes before five o’clock, the agreed upon time, and stepped inside soon after. He’d gotten a final glimpse of the lobby as the lift closed once again, drinking in what he could while he could.

“Think _that’s_ impressive?” Hayley asked with that same warm smile, raising plucked eyebrows as Harry met her gaze before pressing a button that’d send them to the second-to-top floor of the massive building. “Turn around.”

As the elevator gently jerked upwards, Harry followed her instruction, curiously eyeing the back of the elevator which had quickly turned to glass as they ascended, giving a clear view of the shopping plaza and downtown London the higher they rose. Lights shone from countless buildings, the hustle and bustle of the street below becoming more and more ant-like the higher they climbed. Some distance away, Big Ben was visible in all its glory, and the bridge to its left.

“Holy..”

Hayley’s laughter filled the elevator, the sound pleasant, and Harry then realized how similarly to a child in a candy shop he must’ve looked in the moment.

“Yeah, I’ve never gotten used to it.” She sympathized kindly. “Though, I’m sure it isn’t as crazy for you, being a native and all.”

“Nah, I don’t really..” He shook his head slightly, eyes still fixed on the view below before he was meeting her earthy gaze. “..don’t really visit this area much.”

“No? Where are you from?”

Her question had taken him slightly off-guard, Harry unaccustomed to being shown _this_ much positive interest by someone so many social and financial classes above himself. “Just outside the city.. the suburbs.” He answered, unwilling to share his exact location with her despite the fact that she probably wouldn’t be familiar with the area anyway. “What about you?”

“I was born in Oakland.” Hayley answered just before a ding was filling the air -- and the double doors were opening. “California.” She specified after noticing his confused expression. “Ever heard of it?”

“No, sorry..”

“S’alright.” She murmured with a casual shrug as she led him down a long, wide hallway. “Just a big city in an even bigger state.”

“That’s the one..” Harry did his best to contribute as he followed, thick eyebrows knitting together in a furrow. “..with Hollywood, yeah?”

“Hollywood! Yes.” She perked up, lips pulling into another grin. “It’s actually way farther north, but same state, yeah. See? You know your stuff.” She nudged Harry on the arm playfully with her elbow, and he couldn’t help but mirror her infectious smile.

As they proceeded down the long hallway, Hayley pulled out her phone, the impact of her nails against the screen filling the silence. “It’s just down here.” She shot over her shoulder as they neared their destination, and finally slipped a key into the hole of the last door in the hall.

Once they entered, his jaw was dropping for the third time that evening. The apartment Hayley had led him into was donned with the sort of decorations Harry could only recall seeing on the interior design shows his older sister Gemma and younger brother Matty would watch on Sunday mornings. Plants lined the large window that extended from floor to ceiling, the porch beyond revealing an incredible view of London below. An ornate lamp hung suspended from the ceiling above an impressive glass coffee table, and exotic paintings decorated the walls.

“Can I get you something to drink?” Hayley asked, the smile lingering there making it clear that she’d been watching his reaction with the utmost interest.

“Er.. sure.”

She floated to the kitchen area, moving past a granite island and opening the most stocked fridge Harry had ever laid eyes on in his life. “We have.. water, cranapple juice, champagne, moscato, beer, whiskey.. I’m a bit trained in the art of mixing drinks so I could whip together an agave mule or tequila sunrise if you’re feeling fun?” Hayley paused, turning around to eye Harry in search for an answer.

“Water’s fine..” Was all he could murmur in response, unsure of whether or not he’d even registered anything past the initial suggestion, completely overwhelmed.

“Sparkling or regular?”

“Regular, thank you..” He answered, completely lost on what the difference between the two even were.

Instead of fishing for a glass, as he anticipated, she merely plucked a bottle out of the fridge and handed it over. “Alright, Brendon’s on his way, so in the meantime let’s try on some outfits.”

Although he was unsure of who she was referring to, Harry followed her down a smaller hallway and into a bedroom. As he took a sip of the ice cold water -- which quickly became chugs once he realized _just_ how thirsty he was -- Hayley pulled out a large case. Harry was only then reminded of why he was there and could feel his face growing hot with embarrassment.

“Oh, totally forgot!” She exclaimed just as she was opening the container. “Just need to see an ID of some sort from you.”

“An ID?” Harry asked, ignoring the uncomfortable flip in the pit of his stomach.

“To verify your age -- just a liability thing. You have it with you?”

Harry recalled her mentioning this in the email, but had hoped it’d just been a scare tactic in case he _wasn’t_ over eighteen.

“Er, yeah..” He then shrugged the backpack strap off his shoulder, placing the bottle down so he could dig through a pocket. He pulled out his school ID and handed it over, silently bracing himself for what was to come.

Hayley merely gave it a glance at first before doing a double take, probably eyeing his birth year and noticing how it was two digits _too_ high. A heavy silence followed as she skimmed over the information once again, undoubtedly doing mental math. “You’re..”

“Nineteen, I know..” Harry murmured hastily, not enjoying the clear disappointment plastering her features -- the first unpleasant expression she’d emoted that evening. “..but I’m turning twenty in a week - _less_ than a week - and I look a _bit_ older for my age, so I figured..”

“The limit was twenty-one, Harry.” Hayley’s tone was surprisingly stern and the sinking feeling returned. “I’m sorry. I should’ve checked earlier-”

“Please.” He didn’t bother hiding the desperation in his tone, mind flashing first to his family then to the University. “Please, I’ll.. I’ll do whatever. I won’t tell anyone about this, I _swear_.” When her clear apprehension didn’t budge, he continued. “I really, _really_ need this money. I don’t have much time..”

Another silence fell and Harry noticed that he’d been fidgeting with the cap of the bottle in his grip, twisting it repeatedly on and off. For a moment, it was the only sound filling the apartment till a latch clicking some distance away was taking its place.

“Um..” Hayley was clearly mulling something over, mind working fast as the sound of footsteps approached. “Let _me_ do the talking.”

Before Harry could ask her to elaborate, someone else was entering the room.

It was a man -- the one Hayley had been referring to, Harry could only assume. The stranger was a couple inches taller than himself. Thick, raven-black hair styled into a pompadour fell around his face which looked practically chiseled into place. Large, dark, uninviting eyes were framed by thick eyebrows -- the right of which had a slight visible slit, whether from a previous injury or stylistic choice -- and plump, pale lips drew the attention on an otherwise clean-shaven face. The first two buttons of an expensive top were undone and tucked into black trousers -- neatly held in place by a belt and accented with gray Oxfords.

“Brendon.” The man extended his right hand, a Rolex which unquestionably was worth more than everything Harry had ever -- and would ever -- own in his life latched snuggly to his wrist. His voice wasn’t exactly deep, but silky smooth, tone commanding and confident despite how brief the introduction had been.

“I’m Harry.” He shook Brendon’s hand which was surprisingly soft despite his rigid exterior. Harry could only attribute it to expensive care products that undoubtedly lined an even more luxurious bathroom wherever he called home. “Pleasure to meet you.”

“Ready?” Brendon asked Hayley almost immediately, not bothering to exchange any pleasantries.

“Yeah - slight problem.” She began, and the same dread that temporarily left Harry in sight of the extremely strong presence that just entered the room, returned.

Trying his best not to panic, he hoped Hayley wouldn’t rat him out, mostly due to the fragility of the situation, but also because the businessman didn’t seem like the type to take ‘problems’ -- no matter how slight -- lightly.

Instead of saying more, she handed over the school ID, and Harry watched Brendon’s expression with bated breath, waiting for his reaction.

“You’re not twenty-one.” Brendon stated without hesitation, only having to glance at the birthday before holding it back out to Harry.

“No, but-”

“He _does_ look it though.” Hayley cut in, her tone suggesting Harry _stop_ talking as she eyed -- what he assumed was -- her boss. “And he _is_ over eighteen.”

Unsure of why she was defending him, but eternally grateful, Harry shifted his attention back to the businessman once again.

“A complete waste of time.” Brendon was speaking to Hayley but the statement had clearly been directed at him. “We’ll find someone else.”

“Wait - no.” Harry cut in, ignoring Hayley’s warning look and throwing caution to the wind. “I swear I won’t tell anyone. I’ll do whatever you ask-”

“Hayley, show him out.”

“But I’m already here!” Harry raised his voice and stepped between the two so he could force Brendon to meet his gaze. “I’m already here and you don’t like time wasters. I’m only a year too young, yeah? And who am I gonna tell? I have, like, _one_ friend and _all_ I need this money for is school. _Nothing_ shady, I _swear_. I’ll even show you the note! They’ll chuck me out unless I pay this _crazy_ amount by next Friday and I literally have _no_ other options, _please_.”

It was only after a few seconds had passed that he realized just how intimidating Brendon was. Holding his gaze was extremely difficult, though the thought of his siblings and impending future kept him rooted to the spot.

The room had gotten uncomfortably silent and Harry could feel his reserve slipping the more he was forced to gaze into dark eyes, those of which were boring into his own. Brendon only broke eye contact to shoot Hayley a glance. Then his lips were parting. “Get him dressed.”

He left the room as suddenly as he’d entered it.

Relief washed over Harry and he only just then remembered to breathe, though the moment of relaxation didn’t last long.

“Alright, strip.” Hayley spoke from behind him and he turned around to see her already digging through the case littered with leathers and accessories.

Harry didn’t hesitate to obey, tugging his shirt over his head before undoing his belt. It was as he was left in just his briefs -- and feeling extremely self-conscious -- that he decided to speak up again.

“Is he always like that?” The question one he couldn’t fight the urge to ask. Hayley wasn’t responding till she was tossing a thin article of clothing his way.

“Like what?” After pulling a few more choice items out, she was approaching Harry -- first, handing him a thick, white envelope, then helping him dress.

“Like..” He shrugged, resisting eyeing the envelope with the first payment as he slipped his arm through a hole she’d held open for him. “..serious, I suppose?”

“Yeah, I guess.” She answered, eyes fixed on the outfit though he noticed the smallest smile dancing on her lips.

He didn’t say more as she navigated the skimpy, leather bodysuit -- it seemed like -- onto him. And it was only after she returned to the bed for the final articles of clothing that he spoke up again.

“What am I doing, by the way? I mean..” He eyed the fishnet tights she was holding out for a moment before reluctantly taking it and pulling them on. “..I’ve never really..”

“It’s just a shoot, then we’ll try some recordings - assuming the first part goes well.” Hayley adjusted the items as he awkwardly pulled them on before holding out what looked like a black speedo.

At this, Harry hesitated, eyeing the speedo with clear apprehension before meeting her gaze. She visibly softened before taking his hand and placing the underwear in his grip.

“You said you really need the money.” She was clearly sympathetic. “I know this is.. _tough_ , but the shoot shouldn’t take took long. Brendon’s done this tons of times.”

 _“Brendon?”_ He instinctively glanced at the door, voice lowered in the off chance that the businessman was within ear shot.

“Yeah, he’s shooting it.”

Harry could feel his face grow hot once again, glancing down at the skimpy material as the feeling of complete and utter shame washed over him.

“Hey..” He felt her soft hand meet his shoulder before she was giving it a gentle squeeze. “..it’ll be fine. He’s really professional.”

“Don’t doubt that..” Harry murmured under his breath, thinking of the man’s cold demeanor. Hayley turned around, stuffing away the rejected accessories to give him privacy, and was looking back once the speedo was snapping into place.

“See? You look..”

“Don’t.”

At his response, Hayley was laughing again, and her infectious smile had tugged one on his own lips.

“Alright..” She approached him once more, placing a tight choker around his neck, then handed him a whip. “You’re ready.”

Not wanting to overstep, Harry resisted the urge to ask _what_ exactly this was for and merely resorted to pretending he wasn’t wearing the most emasculating outfit he’d ever seen as Hayley disappeared from the room.

As silence fell, he realized that this was the first time he’d been given a chance to gather his thoughts since entering the extravagant building and used the stolen moments to peer into the envelope that had been handed to him.

A stack of twenties lay within and the sight alone had been motivation enough to force the nineteenyear-old to swallow his pride and march on. It was as he was placing it safely in the pocket of his bag that Hayley was returning with Brendon close behind her.

Harry could feel his face grow hot with embarrassment for what seemed like the millionth time that night -- standing his ground while in the presence of the businessman far more difficult this time around -- and he nervously chewed on his bottom lip as the two discussed logistics.

Brendon had a professional camera in hand and was directing Hayley as she rearranged lights around the neatly made bed. The businessman hadn’t given him the slightest attention, though Harry couldn’t find any downsides to this, trying not to picture the plethora of compromising positions he could possibly be put in within the next few minutes.

“Could you get on the bed, Harry?” Hayley asked as she pulled out a chair for both her and Brendon, subsequently removing her shoes and standing on her own so she could finish setting up a large light at the other end of the room.

Harry obeyed, making his way over and awkwardly settling himself on the edge as Brendon took the seat directly across from him, but still some distance away. With an audible _‘click!’_ the light was turned on, and Harry was forced to squint slightly as his corneas adapted to this new environment.

“Turn the other one on too.” Brendon told her, eyes finally fixing on Harry once she obeyed.

As the other light was switched on Harry squinted again, and after his eyes adjusted he had no choice but to awkwardly look at Brendon who was eyeing him with an intensity that only seemed to make him blush harder. His fingers were fidgeting with the whip’s tassels, desperate for something to do as the businessman came to some silent verdict.

“This is good.” Brendon murmured finally, turning on the camera and holding it up to his face so he could peer through the viewfinder. He took a shot suddenly and Harry’s gaze shifted to Hayley who was now approaching him.

“Sit here.” She instructed, patting the center of the bed. Harry shuffled backwards until he reached it, then crossed his legs. “So this shoot has a very sultry, sexy feel to it. Have you ever taken nudes?”

The question had completely taken Harry off guard, and he did his best not to glance at Brendon who was adjusting some setting on the camera as he shook his head.

“Okay, well..” Hayley looked upwards for a moment, clearly thinking. “You’ve flirted before, right? Tried to woo someone?”

“Yeah..”

“Okay, great! So this’ll be just like that.” She explained, sitting on the edge of the bed as she spoke. “Now, obviously you’re being catered towards a more.. _specific_ audience, but it’s the same idea. Try to stay generally flirty and fun but also be fierce and demanding, _you’re_ the one holding the whip. Okay?”

“Okay.”

“Now lay down on your side, like this..” Hayley helped Harry into the first position, placing the hand holding the whip on his knee before fixing his hair which must’ve been a mess considering all it’d been through in the past few hours. “Great.”

She retreated to her own seat a few inches behind Brendon and gave Harry an encouraging thumbs up as the businessman held the camera up to his face once again.

“Don’t smile.” Brendon demanded before even taking the first shot. The sternness momentarily shook Harry, but he recovered quickly, mind flickering to the envelope in his bag as he obeyed.

It was a mostly silent affair, Brendon only breaking the silence to command Harry into different positions as he shot. After -- what felt like -- a few minutes passed, the businessman stopped and leaned over to mutter something into Hayley’s ear.

“You need to loosen up.” Brendon told Harry after a moment, eyes unforgiving as he spoke.

“What d’you mean?”

“I mean, this is the least provocative shoot I’ve taken all year.”

“How about we chat for a bit.” Hayley cut in, registering the hurt expression etched on Harry’s features before slipping from her seat and approaching him once again.

As she settled on the bed, Brendon left the room with no explanation, and Harry couldn’t help but eye him moodily as he did so.

“I’m trying.” He told Hayley once he assumed the businessman was out of earshot.

“I know. He’s not exactly the most patient person.” She sympathized. “Just.. pretend you’re doing this for someone.”

“For who? This is the strangest thing I’ve ever done in my _life_.”

“You gotta’ fake it till you make it, Harry. I know it’s tough, but just pretend you’re wearing something you feel really sexy in.”

“I’m doing _everything_ he’s asking.”

“You’re just a bit stiff.” Hayley admitted finally. “You need to loosen up.”

“A bit hard to do that with him barking at me every thirty seconds..”

Harry wasn’t a whiner. His living situation had forced him to grow a thick skin, however Brendon was something else entirely. It was as the businessman was returning -- a drink of some sort in hand -- that Hayley snapped her fingers, an idea coming to mind.

“I know! Give me a minute.” Before Harry could cut in, she was floating from the room, and the pair were left alone for the first time.

He returned to nervously fidgeting with the tassel, gaze occasionally flickering to Brendon who was sipping some dark liquor and eyeing shots he’d taken. It was the longest minute of Harry’s life, the silence heavy and tension thick. He was adjusting the choker around his neck when Hayley floated back into the room, a drink similar to Brendon’s in hand.

“Chug this.” She then held it out to Harry who eyed the drink as if it had been poisoned. “The legal drinking age is eighteen here, right?” She asked, glancing back at Brendon who looked possibly even less amused than he had been initially.

“Yeah, but..” Harry hesitated, unsure of whether or not it’d be wise to share that he’d _never_ had liquor before in his _life_. He was no straight edge, but the farthest he’d gotten had been a few beers with Alfie’s brothers during the weekends.

_Desperate times._

Not wanting to disappoint either of them any further, Harry took the glass from Hayley and brought it to his lips. After the first sip, he was coughing -- the strong, bland flavor gripping his taste buds without mercy.

“It’s an old fashioned. Ever have whiskey before?” Hayley asked with a raised voice, clearly trying hard not to laugh.

Harry merely shook his head, bringing the glass back to his lips -- and this time -- determinedly chugging the remainder of it. After a few seconds it was empty, and he squinted hard as the burning raged through his chest.

“Okay, great! That should help.” Hayley was smiling encouragingly as she took her seat. “Just get back into the position you were in last, okay?”

Dread filling him once again, Harry turned his back on the pair of them before splaying himself across the comforter. His head hung off the edge and it was as his eyes was locking with Brendon’s lens that he realized the ground was _far_ less stable than it had been seconds ago.

The click of the camera echoed from some distance away and it took a few additional seconds for Harry to remember what pose he’d been directed into.

This time things were different.

Harry had only been drunk a handful of times in his life, having chugged several beers at parties and stumbling his way home. This alcohol, however, was different.

Far more intense.

The self-consciousness that previously plagued him seemed non-existent as seconds turned to minutes and soon he was grinning just as much as Hayley who frequently held her thumbs up in silent encouragement this time around. However long it had been, Harry couldn’t tell, merely following the businessman’s instruction without question as he snapped to his heart’s content.

It was as Brendon was lowering the camera and bringing his drink back to his lips some time later that Hayley had leaned over and whispered something in his ear, phone in hand. Brendon merely nodded in response, and she was floating from the room within seconds.

Harry sat up at this development and watched the businessman flick through the photos for a few seconds before following an urge and breaking the silence. “Was that alright?”

Brendon didn’t respond immediately, either extremely focused on the task or flat-out ignoring the query. After a moment, he was looking up from the camera and nodding. “It was fine.”

A stab of annoyance surged through Harry at the statement and it was the alcohol that urged him to press on. “Just fine?”

More silence.

Brendon didn’t look back up till after another moment had passed and this time he held Harry’s gaze briefly before nodding again. “Just fine.”

He didn’t look back down this time, as if silently challenging Harry to say more, and the nineteen-year-old did just that. “What was the problem?”

“There was no problem.”

“So how come..” Harry continued, visibly flustered. “..it was just fine?”

Another silence fell and Brendon continued to watch Harry who was becoming increasingly more self-conscious as the seconds wore on. It wasn’t until after he had taken a sip of his drink that he decided to speak up again.

“It was nothing impressive.”

Harry could tell his cheeks were flaring up at this, face growing hot as he subconsciously crossed his arms over his chest in an attempt to cover himself. At first, he wasn’t sure if it was a trick of the eyes or the alcohol, but Brendon’s lips were pulling into the smallest, smug smile.

“What are you studying?” When Brendon asked this, the smirk was gone, the aloof -- practically bored -- expression etched across his features once again.

“Software engineering.” Harry answered, arms still fixed across his chest as he crossed his legs. “What do you do? Like.. in life?”

Brendon didn’t answer this time, clearly studying Harry who was still under both spotlights.

“What’s so funny?” Harry couldn’t help but shoot at him defensively when he didn’t get a response before realizing how stupid the question was considering the businessman hadn’t been smiling in the slightest.

“And this is how you pay your way through college?” Brendon asked, the judgement in his tone clear as day.

The shame seemed to return ten-fold this time, the intoxication heavy and rendering Harry far more vulnerable to criticism. “Am I done here?” He was asking with far more attitude than he normally would’ve done had it been anyone else. Had it not been _him_.

When Brendon didn’t answer straight away, Harry took the initiative and shuffled off the bed. He was just beginning to strip out of the leather when Hayley was returning once again. “You guys wrapped up already?”

“Yes.” Harry replied sternly, tugging his worn tee shirt over his head and not bothering to meet Brendon’s gaze.

“What about the video?” She asked, surprise laced in her tone, though Harry couldn’t see the look she was exchanging with the businessman due to being solely fixated on the idea of getting dressed. “It’ll only take a second-”

“I’d like to leave.” Harry shot at her, not intending to come off as rude as he was but not bothering to apologize either. “Can I just get the last half and go? Please.”

Hayley eyed him for a moment before turning to Brendon who was already lazily shutting off his own camera equipment.

“Uh, yeah..”

“Great. Where’s the bathroom?”

After being directed down the hall by Hayley, Harry shut the door behind him, then squatted on a small seat in the corner of the bathroom and buried his face in his hands. Walking straight had been a chore considering he was extremely tipsy and he knew biking the hour back home would be even more difficult now.

It wasn’t until Harry was looking back up that he realized his palms were wet and he hastily wiped under his eyes before peeling the remainder of the outfit off his body. Once he was back in his own clothes, Harry peered into the mirror, silently cursing at himself before using the sink to wash the tear stains from his cheeks and tame the slight puffiness of his eyes.

It was one of Harry’s many weaknesses, how easily his face showed when he’d been crying -- as briefly as it’d lasted -- and he spent extra time ensuring the redness had gone down before gathering his things and leaving the bathroom. When he was returning to the bedroom once again, he realized all the lights had been shut off and his backpack was gone. It was after he made his way back into the living room that he found Brendon settled on the couch -- drink still in hand, though nearly gone.

“Where’s my stuff?” Harry asked before clearing his throat once he realized how thick his voice sounded.

Brendon gestured towards the backpack that had been placed on the coffee table -- it looked significantly more shabby in the presence of such luxuries. Harry approached it and slung the bag over his shoulder, then his eyes wandered the room.

“Where’s Hayley?”

“She’s taking a call.” Brendon pushed himself up at this, placing the glass down as he stood, then reaching into his back pocket. “How much do I owe you?”

The question had taken Harry off guard, and his eyes followed the businessman’s movements as he opened a wallet packed thick with fifties. He then pulled out the wad and began counting, only pausing to meeting Harry’s gaze once he didn’t respond.

“Er..” Harry hesitated, silently calculating the remainder of what he needed by Thursday. It was far more than what was promised, but Harry didn’t feel any warmth towards the man who probably wouldn’t need it anyway. “Six hundred.”

_Six hundred._

It was only after he said it aloud that he realized how ridiculous the lie had been. He waited for Brendon to curse at him, to hurl an insult, or even _laugh_ , but the businessman merely looked back at his stack of bills, counted several extra, then held it out to him.

For a moment, Harry just looked at him -- unsure of whether or not he was being serious.

“You can count it if you don’t believe me.”

“I believe you.” He retorted, eyeing the businessman suspiciously before taking the wad in hand and holding it gingerly in his grip.

“I didn’t mean to judge you.” Brendon explained after a moment. He placed the wallet away then shoved his hands in both front pockets. “You’re trying to get an education. That’s good.”

“I don’t need you to patronize me.” Harry couldn’t help but shoot back defiantly, regardless of the fact that he had no upper hand considering he’d just been gifted three hundred extra pounds he didn’t deserve.

“I’m not patronizing you.” Brendon responded, he didn’t seem the slightest bit offended. “The shots came out really well. You did a good job.”

The sudden kindness was unexpected, and Harry’s eyebrows knitted together in a tight furrow as he watched him suspiciously.

“I can show you out.” Brendon spoke up again, and it wasn’t until he was shuffling from his spot in front of the couch that Harry realized how close they’d been. “This way.”

Coming to his senses, he followed Brendon out of the apartment, pocketing the money as he was led down the hall. A few silent seconds passed as they waited for the lift -- then he was breaking it.

“What do you do for a living?” Harry couldn’t fight the curiosity, despite his less-than-warm feelings towards the man, he knew he would’ve kicked himself upon sobering up had he not at least asked.

The elevator doors were opening just as Brendon met his gaze and he gestured for Harry to enter first before following close behind. The view had caught Harry’s eye immediately, the lights of downtown London flashing in the lift as it began to descend.

“I.. own a lot of things.” Brendon’s answer had come as a surprise to Harry who had only been expecting silence in return, and he tore his gaze away from the view to eye Brendon curiously.

“What things?”

“I can’t tell you that.”

“Why not?”

For a moment, Brendon didn’t respond, amusement etched on his features as Harry determinedly held his gaze. “I’d be putting myself in jeopardy.”

Harry realized he was being rude, prying so much, but he’d blame it on the alcohol later. “Is it, like.. legal?”

Brendon laughed.

It wasn’t a hearty bellow or carefree like Hayley’s -- merely a chuckle one would give a little child after making a ridiculous assumption -- but he was smiling nonetheless. It was slightly endearing.

“Yes, it’s legal.”

The elevator doors were opening as he said this, and Brendon was leading the way once again. As they exited the building, Harry noticed the same two men standing guard. Both seemed to straighten in posture once they noticed Brendon which only fueled Harry’s curiosity even more.

“How did you get here?”

The question was unexpected, and for a moment Harry had to look around before noticing his tattered bike some distance away. “Just..” He gestured towards it and Brendon followed his gaze. Shame came over him once again as he admitted this but he shrugged it off best he could.

“I can call you a taxi.”

“No, it’s fine.” Harry assured him, not wanting to accept any more charity for an unknown reason. “I don’t live too far away.”

This seemed to be enough for Brendon who merely nodded in acknowledgement. Harry nodded back before slowly making his way to his bike. After unlocking it, he chanced a glance back at the entrance of the large building.

He was surprised to find Brendon still standing there, watching. Harry could feel his face grow hot once again as he drunkenly mounted the bike and kicked off, and he rode into the crowd without another look back.


	3. Imperial College London

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“I don’t try to be mean.” He confessed, unsure of why he was so determined to continue this streak of honesty with a student he barely knew. “I’m just constantly working, so it’s constantly on.”_
> 
> _Harry seemed to appreciate this, his expression softening significantly at his words. “It doesn’t have to be..” He told him after some consideration. “..constantly on.”_

The remainder of October passed by uneventfully, the endless cycle of going to meetings, reading emails, making investments, and putting out fires feeling even more monotonous than it had at the beginning of the month.

Though, of course, things were different these days.

During those bleak meetings, Brendon found his mind wandering more often than usual. Where it’d head initially, were numbers and emails he’d skimmed earlier that day. But then, when he’d let his guard down, it’d stray even deeper into the depths of his subconscious, where emerald eyes lay stuffed away. Thick eyebrows and high cheekbones. Earnest words and ignorance so profound it was astonishing _anyone_ could’ve gotten that far in life without landing themselves into trouble.. Though considering things.. he had.

At times, when Brendon’s mind would wander towards that lazy, british drawl and dimpled smile, he’d catch Hayley watching him. And whether or not she was aware of the contents of his reveries, the grin placed on her lips would always grow wider.

But she’d say nothing.

She hadn’t commented on their photoshoot since it’d happened. After chastising the CEO once he’d revealed to her his less than admirable behavior and shaming him into apologizing to the nineteen-year-old boy, Hayley remained oddly tight-lipped when it came to her opinion on the matter.

Then November came around.

Brendon was deep into charts a timid assistant of his had brought to his desk earlier that morning when Hayley made her entrance, though he wasn’t looking up from the sea of numbers till she was settling herself into one of the two seats across from him.

“Am I paying you to sit around and look pretty?”

“You really should. I’d make a fortune.” She shot back without hesitation, accustomed to his cold demeanor by then. Before he could respond, she was cutting in, “It’s that time of year..”

“When I get a new P.A.?”

“Career Week! You grouchy, grouchy man.” Hayley pulled a sheet of paper out of a file folder she’d been holding, ceremoniously reaching forward and placing it right on top of his work. “Remember? You choose a university.. Go tell a bunch of undergrads about why they should apply to any of the plethora of companies you own.. then crush their hopes and dreams once they realize you only hire a handful of applicants from the _entire_ Northern Hemisphere.”

“Oxford, since we did Cambridge last year.” Brendon answered without hesitation, casting aside the sheet of paper and finding his place on the chart once again.

“Or..” Hayley began, her tone suggesting she had a more sinister idea in mind. “..you could choose another college? One that isn’t Oxford or Cambridge considering you’ve been flip-flopping between those two for the past five years.”

“You’re clearly trying to get at something, so arrive at the point.” Brendon snapped, his already thin patience on its very last thread.

“Speak at the Imperial College.” Hayley answered. She was already cutting in before Brendon could outright decline the offer: “It’ll help your image, hear me out..” She pushed herself out of her seat by then and was pacing his office. “It’s a public university -- which I know you hate -- but imagine how it’d look for your more local investors? It shows you’re not just about the image, you appreciate the culture of the UK and all London has to bring.”

When Brendon didn’t interrupt, she continued.

“Not to mention, over sixteen _thousand_ students are currently enrolled so that’ll be a fresh batch of brains you’ll be appealing to. You _know_ there are kids out there who are _just_ as smart as the Oxford and Cambridge ones, but can’t afford that crazy tuition. Plus..” Hayley reclaimed her seat as she said this, keeping her perfect posture and holding his gaze for a moment before throwing caution to the wind and adding, “..Harry goes there.”

“And?” Brendon had been loosely listening to give her the time of day, but at the mention of the college student was clearly unnerved. “What do you take me for?”

“A _kind_ _person_.” She shot back. “Somewhere deep, _deep_ down you care for people and he..” She shrugged. “..clearly doesn’t have much of an idea about the real world. You could take him under your wing.”

“Under my wing? He’s an engineer, not a business major.”

“But you have _several_ engineering departments under your command. Imagine how many of them could use a fresh-faced, hardworking, paid intern?”

Brendon watched her for a moment, eyeing her expression though she was staring determinedly back. Her motives were suspicious, though not unnaturally so. Hayley had a tendency to root for the underdog, it was one of her many weaknesses. After some consideration, he was rubbing tired eyes with nimble fingers, and that was all Hayley had needed. She was jumping from her seat seconds later and failing to contain the excitement clearly etched on her features.

“I’m not giving him an unfair advantage.. He’ll have to work for his spot.”

“I’ll set the appointment!”

The following fortnight passed without incident. And in the third week of November, Brendon found himself riding in the backseat of his Escalade, on his way to a college campus he hadn’t even known existed prior to that month. Hayley was sitting by his side, gazing out the window and making various comments about some of the students she’d see walking by.

“So..” She turned back to Brendon as they reached a back lot and pulled out her phone. “First, you’re meeting with the deans -- they have a presentation set up so they can tell you a bit about the University.. Then we’re getting shown around by two of the top student tour guides.. Then you’re speaking with the business grads.. Then you have your presentation with the school.. _Then_ we can have lunch.. _Then_ we’re heading back to the office.”

Brendon merely nodded in acknowledgement, eyes fixed on his phone as he skimmed various emails. When the car came to a stop and the door was opened for them, he was slipping out, followed by Hayley who scanned the area before spotting one of the deans approaching their vehicle.

Exchanging pleasantries had been brainless, and Brendon was silently grateful the dean was on the chattier side as she led them towards a building, talking his ear off. There, Brendon only shook more hands, painfully aware of how much they were kissing his boots as he politely paid as much attention to the presentation as he could. About halfway through, he found his mind wandering, and gaze was aimlessly flickering about the room till it was fixing on something outside the window.

And his thoughts stopped.

In the distance, he noticed two students playfully shoving at each other in the courtyard. Just as he was looking away, the CEO noticed a tattered, green backpack, one of the straps broken and hanging on for dear life. It was as a student was shoved in his direction that he’d gotten a clear view of his face, the features one he could recognize from a mile away, and his stomach was flipping uncomfortably. Harry.

His dimpled cheeks were what stood out the most, a stupid grin plastered across his face, hair messier than usual, and arm gripping a notebook he’d clearly been skimming before engaging in the pointless roughhousing. Harry turned back to his friend moments later and was in the midst of retaliating when Brendon’s view was obscured once again, this time by a dean who had also noticed the distracting behavior and was shutting the blinds, clearly embarrassed.

As Brendon returned his gaze back to the screen, he caught Hayley’s eye. She’d been standing by the door, tablet in hand and held to her chest, with a grin equally as wide as Harry’s had been as they held eye contact for a moment. Choosing to ignore this, he looked back at the presentation, not allowing his focus to wander for the remainder of the showing.

His patience was tested further as two of the most enthusiastic university girls Brendon could have possibly been stuck with introduced themselves to him thirty minutes later. And he proceeded to engage in a silent game of counting how many times they flipped their hair as they showed him, Hayley, and the dean of students around campus. They’d wandered towards a colorfully decorated structure at one point and one of the girls paused for a moment, turning around to eye Brendon before inquiring with the dean: “This is just the arts building, should we head over?”

“It’s totally fine.” Hayley cut in, shrugging and looking to Brendon for confirmation who honestly hadn’t been paying much attention at that point anyway.

“Yeah, carry on.” He encouraged, causing the girl who’d been addressed to turn a deep shade of taffy before she was leading them inside.

They’d walked past the rooms and studios, pausing at the doorway of some while entering and introducing themselves at others. Brendon had been on autopilot for a majority of this section of the tour, attention only completely floating back to earth once they’d entered a certain studio in particular. At this one, the girls had gone through the same routine, knocking and entering and introducing first themselves, then the dean, and Brendon and Hayley.

It was as Hayley was shaking hands with the instructor that Brendon spotted the pair of emerald eyes he’d spent an evening gazing into from across the room and found himself rooted to the spot. Peering at him from behind an art easel and canvas was none other than Harry, mortification clear as day.

“Would you like to take a look at some of their work?” The instructor had asked them, and before Hayley or anyone else in the group could decline, Brendon was nodding -- it probably being the first proactive response he’d given the entire tour.

Hayley had spotted Harry by then and was already making her way around the room, vocally admiring the student’s work and chatting with them casually, something she always seemed capable of doing with complete strangers.

Brendon followed, hands in his pockets, and silently eyed various portraits they seemed to be sketching of a subject at the center of the room. It was as they approached Harry’s that Hayley slowed to a stop once again and proceeded to compliment his work.

Harry’s face was a deep crimson at this point, and Brendon had to resist the urge to laugh. He had found the student’s hyperactive cheeks a cause of annoyance during their photoshoot a month ago, but now, it only filled him with amusement as Harry shyly responded to Hayley’s engagement.

Soon, she was drifting away and Brendon trailed behind her, only pausing to briefly eye Harry’s handiwork. The sight had taken him slightly off-guard. The artwork was far from perfect, but for someone who didn’t think the student was particularly good at anything, it was cause for surprise. The attention to detail was astonishing, the woman’s figure in the portrait copied nearly to a T. The thickness of her thighs, depth in her curves, the shape of her breasts -- all sketched with a care Brendon hadn’t been aware Harry had.

It was clear Harry had been watching him, eyeing his reaction. He was undoubtedly familiar with what Brendon was capable of, completely prepared to be publicly humiliated by the man who’d shamed him for the entirety of their meeting in October.

“This is really good.”

It was the only comment he’d given while in the room, that much was clear. The students around him had been watching carefully, a few exchanging glances as soon as Brendon had spoken, though his eyes were fixed on Harry who was turning even deeper shades of scarlet at the compliment.

“Thank you.” His accent was thick as per usual, and Brendon was struck with a compelling urge to engage him in more conversation before stuffing it down and following Hayley back towards the dean and tour guides who’d been waiting patiently by the door.

Brendon sauntered out of the room without a second glance.

The rest of the day floated by without incident, Brendon forced to speak to a group of graduate students who’d been hanging onto his every word as if their lives depended on it, and subsequently an even larger group of undergraduates. This presentation had been more difficult, Brendon spotting Harry in the crowd three-quarters of the way through, and he spent the rest of his energy ensuring his gaze didn’t wander back towards the student for the remainder of the speech.

By the time Hayley was meeting him afterwards, Brendon’s minuscule interest in the school had effectively run dry, though he waited till they were finally parting ways with the clingy dean of students before speaking his mind.

“How far is the car?”

“The car?” Hayley asked, sparing him a glance as she led them to the courtyard. It was a surprisingly nice day, the sun out with its rays shining. Students were lounged all around, some tossing frisbees, some finishing homework or working on projects, and others talking animatedly among themselves. “You don’t want to stay for lunch?”

“No?” Brendon murmured without the slightest bit of hesitation, eyes searching the crowd for no one in particular, but searching all the same. “Call the car.”

Hayley, visibly disappointed, had pulled out her phone and was composing a message for their driver when a frisbee disc landed some distance away.

“Oi!” A stranger hollered at them. Brendon looked up from Hayley to see a crowd of college students waving their arms. As soon as they recognized Brendon, their eyebrows visibly raised and a few of them approached.

“Great..” He groaned quietly as Hayley lifted the toy.

“You’re Brendon Urie.” One of them said. It had been a guy, clad in dress shorts and a tee shirt, his shoes lying elsewhere, forgotten, to give him mobility as they enjoyed their elementary activity.

“I am.”

“Big fan, mate.”

“Fan?” A girl cut in, jogging to a halt and squinting at her friend. “He’s not a _celebrity_ , Jay.”

“Yeah, only a multi-millionaire with tons of companies under his command.” He retorted before looking back to Brendon and extending a hand. “I’ve looked up to you for ages. What you’re doing in London..”

And that had been the intro to an extremely long conversation.

Brendon only continued it out of courtesy, aware of what a bad impression could do when the internet was so accessible these days and the young generation so outspoken. It was when he was attempting to peel away from the small crowd that had gathered around him that he realized Hayley had abandoned him. And it was as he was saying his final goodbyes to the students that she tracked him down, in even more company.

“Call the-”

“Here he is!” Hayley shot over her shoulder, cutting off Brendon’s order and forcing him to look over at who she’d been speaking to. “Brendon, you remember Harry?” She asked, stepping aside to reveal the college student who was approaching him with a friend by his side. “Well, apparently he’s friends with Nicholaus Parr - _Jason Parr_..” She continued, quickly getting to the point once she registered Brendon’s extremely irritated expression. “..is our President of communications. _Who knew_ his son went here?”

The kid Harry had accompanied was dressed far better, pastel dress pants and oxfords donning his person as opposed to Harry’s withered jeans and the same, battered Converse. Brendon politely shook his hand and in seconds the student was on a tangent, clearly under the impression that whatever he had to say was of the utmost interest and importance.

An impressive amount of time had passed when Nicholaus was finally saying his goodbyes, a majority of the courtyard had been emptied out by then as well, the stragglers those who were fully intending on being late to class -- or fortunate enough to have a free period.

As Nicholaus departed, Hayley pulled out her phone, gesturing to it as she backed away from the pair. “I’ll call the car, okay? Explain to the driver where we are since this campus is a bit complicated..”

As she floated away, Brendon’s gaze was shifting back to Harry who was awkwardly fidgeting with a notebook in his arm.

“Nice school.” He murmured, silently listing off the reasons he _hadn’t_ fired Hayley yet to ensure he wouldn’t do so the minute they reached the office that afternoon.

“Thanks..” Harry nodded appreciatively, trailing off once again before his bottom lip found its way between his teeth. “So you..” He broke the silence, clearly on the verge of bringing up whatever had been on his mind. “..hire a lot of undergrads then? For your mysterious company.”

“It’s not a mysterious company.” Brendon retorted, eyebrows raising slightly as he met Harry’s gaze. Harry held it, shrugging moments after in quiet defeat. “..but yes.” Brendon was answering after another beat. “Not me, personally. But apparently the department heads think it’s not a complete waste of money to have interns.”

“But you do?”

“Yes, I do.” Brendon responded honestly, refusing to lie to the student who’d thankfully brought the annoying fidgeting to a halt.

Harry watched him for a moment, and Brendon was met with the urge to ask him what else was on his mind.. till he was speaking it.

“How much of a chance d’you reckon someone like me has?”

The question had taken him off guard, Brendon not expecting something so direct from someone who could barely hold eye contact with him without turning scarlet.

“Honestly?”

“Honestly.”

He watched Harry carefully, who stared determinedly back as Brendon formulated his response. “You might want to stick to art.”

Brendon was skilled when it came to delivering the cold, hard truth to people. Being CEO, it was part of his day-to-day routine. However, he was finding the blatant cruelty extra difficult to own up to when it was _Harry_ who was on the receiving end of things. Whether he was unaware of it or not, the twenty-year-old was particularly bad at masking his feelings, the pained expression on his face making him resemble a whipped dog.

“It’s just really competitive.” Brendon elaborated when Harry didn’t respond, though when another silence fell, he found himself grappling with sudden, unexplained annoyance. “Why are you so determined to major in engineering anyway? You don’t strike me as a mathematical kinda’ guy.”

Harry didn’t respond immediately, though his expression was shifting to something else, something Brendon didn’t quite understand. “You know.. you’re a bit socially inept.”

“Socially inept?” The stab he’d taken was a shocking one, the CEO unaware of the fact that the student was capable of being even slightly insulting.

“Or maybe you’re just an arse.” Harry admitted after a moment, watching him as he said this. “Either way, you’re not very kind.”

“It’s not my job to be nice.”

“Are you working right now?”

The question had temporarily rendered Brendon silent, the quick retort one he hadn’t been prepared for. And as he silently grappled for a response, Harry watched him, kindly, patiently.

“Truthfully? I’m being paid to be here.”

Harry snorted, finally breaking eye contact and looking around the courtyard. “It was good to see you.” He said after a moment, fixing the strap on his backpack and checking his watch.

“Really?”

“Honestly? No.” Harry met his gaze as he said this, and a coldness Brendon had only witnessed after he’d insulted him deeply during their photoshoot a month prior was there. “I have to go.. Have to prepare for class.”

He gave Brendon a wave and was taking a few steps back before the CEO was grabbed by another urge, one stronger than the irritation that was still coursing through him.

“Harry, wait.”

It was the first time he’d addressed the student by name, and Harry clearly noticed this as he stopped his path towards the door to the building. He then rerouted his steps, making his way back to Brendon, pausing only a pace or two away from where he’d been initially.

“I don’t try to be mean.” He confessed, unsure of why he was so determined to continue this streak of honesty with a student he barely knew. “I’m just constantly working, so it’s constantly on.”

Harry seemed to appreciate this, his expression softening significantly at his words. “It doesn’t have to be..” He told him after some consideration. “..constantly on.”

Unsure of what to say to this, Brendon merely shrugged, eyes wandering towards Hayley some distance away who suddenly shoved her phone up to her ear and was conversing animatedly with -- who Brendon could only assume -- was absolutely no one on the other line.

“I appreciate what you did.” Harry broke the silence after following Brendon’s gaze and the CEO was looking back at him. “The extra money.. it helped tons.”

“It’s just money.” Brendon shrugged once again, meaning what he said entirely though he wasn’t sure Harry would take it the right away.

“To some.. that means the world.” He confessed, voice dipping lower and cheeks tinting slightly as a result.

Brendon watched him curiously for a moment, waiting for him to say more. When he didn’t, he found himself glancing in Hayley’s direction before looking back at Harry in front of him. “Well, if you ever need more quick cash, I mean..” He trailed off, casually glancing around him before meeting Harry’s gaze knowingly.

“Yeah?” Harry looked hopeful at the silent offer, and Brendon eyed him before nodding.

“Yeah. Just..” He paused, mind working fast. “..email me.”

Harry’s eyebrows visibly raised at this offer, and Brendon continued despite this.

“My first initial, last name, last two digits of the year of my birth, at my company’s website dot org.”

“When were you born?” Harry asked, eyebrows knitting together in a tight furrow.

“I’m twenty-seven. Just do the math.” Brendon retorted, already beginning to make his way back towards Hayley who was still talking to the imaginary person on the other line of her phone. “By the looks of it.. you need all the help you can get.”

Just before turning away, he noticed Harry’s expression soften, dimples peeking out as his lips broke into a small smile.

And after turning his back on him, Brendon couldn’t resist smiling too.


	4. Wild Thoughts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“No, no. It’s okay.” Harry retorted quickly, not wanting to cause any trouble. Brendon watched him for a moment with that same expression and the surge of annoyance that pulsed through Harry was harder to ignore. “What’s your problem?” He snapped after a beat._
> 
> _Brendon looked visibly surprised at the question, eyebrows knitting together. “What do you mean?”_
> 
> _“You always..” Harry started, visibly flustered once again. “You’re always looking at me like that.” When Brendon didn’t immediately respond, he added on. “Like I’m.. some animal in a **zoo** or something.” He could feel his face growing hot at the admission, which only made him more angry. “I don’t like it.”_
> 
> _"You don’t?”_
> 
> _“No.”_
> 
> _“I’m sorry.”_

The past month had been unpredictable, the question of whether or not he was still a student at school being thrown in his face, then retracted soon after.

And then Harry had encountered the man that’d saved his future academic career once again.

Seeing Brendon at _his_ university had taken him completely off guard, effectively rocking Harry’s world for the remainder of his week, and the twenty-year-old frequently found himself gazing at the email address he’d copied onto paper soon after their meeting, debating whether or not to use it.

_burie89@silverpanther.com_

He didn’t contact him straight away, unsure of whether he was trying _not_ to appear as desperate as he actually was or out of sheer apprehension.

Either way, Harry found his mind frequently wandering to their last conversation. Brendon had been cold and distant, as expected, though the olive branch he’d extended near the end had opened several doors he hadn’t realized were closed. It was when days turned into a full week that he realized he didn’t have much time before the next payment was due, and the student found himself seated at the same computer in the library one Wednesday evening following classes.

Harry opened up the email section of the student portal, copied the address into the appropriate slot before staring at the header. Several minutes were wasted typing various things into the slot before Harry decided to just leave it blank, and another thirty minutes were spent battering away at an appropriate message before he was skimming the final draft:

_Brendon_

_Hey its Harry. Sorry it took so long to reach out. School’s been busy. My schedule’s lightening up these next few days so I was wondering if you had any free evenings to meet up again?_

_Let me know._

_Harry._

His eyes skimmed the message several times, unsure of whether or not there were grammatical errors considering he was one of the poorest writers he knew before giving up and going back to the header. A mere _‘Hello’_ was entered into the box before he was reading the message for what felt like the fiftieth time -- then hitting send.

Harry waited till the send logo had popped up before closing the tab, and proceeded to double check his homework for the evening before opening up his email once again. It’d only been minutes -- barely -- but Harry found himself squirming impatiently in his seat as the screen loaded slowly.

_Inbox (1)_

He was ashamed of how quickly he’d opened the response, but swallowed his pride and read the brief reply.

_Harry,_

_Out of town this week. Might be back Sunday night. Would you be free then?_

_B._

Harry’s stomach flipped uncomfortably as he took in the message, unsure of why he felt so disappointed, and doing his best to ignore it. Weekends were generally an impossibility for him, his little siblings coming to mind and his and his older sister’s agreement when it came to watching them.

Though, the meeting _was_ for money which would ultimately benefit them in the end when he received his diploma, so after silently hoping Gemma wouldn’t skin him alive, he hit reply and proceeded to type:

_Brendon_

_Sunday night works great._

_Harry_

It was only as he was sending it that he realized how utterly enthusiastic _great_ must’ve sounded, and mentally facepalmed before noticing the flashing notification seconds later.

_Inbox (1)_

He opened it without hesitation.

_Great._

_I’ll have you picked up around seven._

The remainder of the week undoubtedly crept by. What made it worse was that Alfie had noticed his distracted behavior, commenting on it every time he caught Harry’s mind drifting during class or during their shared lunch. Harry had attributed it to being tired, and luckily his best friend had accepted the excuse without hesitation.

Gemma, however, wasn’t as forgiving.

“I need you _here_ on the weekends, Haz. You know this!”

It was Sunday afternoon, and Harry had neglected to break the news to his sister till precisely then purely because he knew this would be the reaction. “But this could be really good for us-”

“Okay, wait. You’re telling me..” Two fingers were lifted to silence him, brunette hair in a messy bun as she brought her buzzing around the shabby kitchen to a pause. “..some hoity-toity rich wanker is paying you to..?” Her silence was clearly intended for him to fill in the blank, and Harry was squirming in his spot.

“To just.. run his errands.”

“Run his errands?” She asked, lips pursed, causing her dimples to peek through -- though not out of happiness. “You’re full of shit.”

“He paid off my school tuition!.. kind of. Last month’s at least. And he’s offering to pay off this month’s too.” Harry tried to reason with the twenty-one-year-old as she continued bustling around the kitchen, preparing dinner.

“In exchange for sex-”

“Sex! Sex! Sex!” Emmaline, their five-year-old half-sister, had burst into the kitchen from the living room, screaming the words at the top of her lungs.

“Emmy, no!” Both the eldest siblings scolded her in unison, and Harry scooped the small girl in his arms who began to giggle madly. After placing her at the open doorway, she darted back into the living room, settling herself on the couch as her brothers Max and Matty continued to play a video game far too violent for her to lay witness to.

“You’re mad, H. You’ve officially gone mad.” Gemma murmured once they were on their own again -- with the exception of Ollie, the nine-year-old, who was seated at the dinner table, finishing homework.

“Why? Because I’m benefiting my future?”

“Is that really what you’re doing this for? _Really?_ ” She snapped, wielding the wooden spoon she’d been using to stir soup and jabbing it towards his chest. “ _Just_ for your education?”

“Yes!”

“You’re a horrible liar, y’know that?” Shaking her head, she went back to stirring. As she reached for the salt up above, her crop top pulled up even higher, revealing a light pink bralette she’d been gifted by her on-and-off again girlfriend. “Is he cute?”

“What?” Harry asked, feeling his face grow hot and resorting to taking a sip of water so he wouldn’t have to meet her gaze.

“You get it from mum, you know.” Gemma shared, leaning against the counter and crossing her arms. She had a fit figure, years of playing football making her tall and slender, clearly pretty -- a gift they’d all received from their mother -- and personality as straightforward as the woman that birthed them. “You’re a shit liar.”

“I’m not lying.” Harry defended his case, gaze flickering to Ollie who was so used to their arguing by now that he barely noticed.

“H, you only get _this_ stupid on two different occasions: when men are involved and when women are. You clearly fancy him.”

“Have you _met_ him? No. If you had, you’d know he’s a right prick.” Harry snapped, gathering the schoolwork he’d been finishing up that evening and stuffing it in his tattered backpack. “I’ll pay you back for tonight’s work as well, just make up some shit excuse, okay?”

Gemma watched him as he gathered his things, staying silent for a moment before rolling her eyes. _“You owe me.”_

“Bless you.” Harry murmured gratefully, cupping her cheeks and planting a wet kiss on her forehead before she had a chance to shove him away. “And don’t even act like you’re not ten times worse when Alia comes ‘round. We’ve been tolerating her for years -- right, Ollie?”

“Hell yeah..” The nine year old murmured without hesitation, earning both him and his older brother a death glare from their sister.

“Both of you shut it. Don’t be back too late, okay?”

“Yeah, yeah.” Harry yelled over his shoulder as he ascended the stairs, entering the bedroom him and his fifteen year old brother, Maxwell, shared.

As seven drew nearer, Harry dressed and showered, this time putting a bit more effort into his outfit. He tugged on five-year-old, fitted black jeans -- the nicest pair he owned -- slipped into a fresh tee shirt, shrugged on a worn hoodie, fixed his hair as best he could, then shuffled into his only pair of shoes -- the worn Converse.

He settled himself on the porch steps a few minutes before seven and Emmy had joined him, snuggled in his lap with her arms wrapped around his middle as if it was the last time she’d ever see him.

“I’ll be back, pet.” Harry murmured into her messy, platinum-blonde hair, and the five-year-old merely looked up at him, sticking out her tongue in response. “That’s how it’s gonna be, huh?” Donning a look of fake astonishment, he began to poke at her tummy and sides in a tickle match she always lost. “ _That’s_ how you feel?”

“No!” She squealed at the top of her lungs, giggles pouring over her lips as she wiggled in his lap, doing her best to escape. A large, black car was pulling into the driveway as they calmed down and Harry merely spared the driver a glance before getting up and lifting Emmaline into his arms. “Don’t go, Hazza!”

“I’ll be back, baby.” He muttered quietly, allowing the little girl to hold onto him for a few extra seconds in a tight embrace before placing her down.

“Promise?”

“Promise.” He planted a firm kiss on Emmy’s forehead before leading her inside, shouting his goodbyes to whoever was listening in the house then shutting the door behind him.

As he approached the car, the driver hopped out, opening the backseat door in the process, and Harry raised his eyebrows in slight surprise at the behavior. “Er, thank you.” He murmured, slipping into the backseat and getting hit with the faintest hint of apple cinnamon.

“Pleasure to meet you, Mister Styles. My name is Tomas and I’ll be your driver this evening.” The man, who looked to be in his late forties, shot a wink at Harry from the rearview mirror after getting back into the driver’s seat and flashed a smile before putting the Escalade in reverse.

“I appreciate it.” Harry murmured back, a smile dancing on his lips, though his eyes were wandering the interior. He rarely rode in cars, though when he did, none of them had been nearly as nice as this one.

As they proceeded to central London, Tom had engaged him in light conversation. And by the time they were reaching the city, he’d clearly taken the scenic route, passing theaters and shops and plazas Harry had only glimpsed during his initial ride a month prior. It was shocking how amiable everyone employed by Brendon seemed to be, considering the CEO himself was as cold as you could get. And the thought stayed with him as the driver dropped him off at the front doors of Rathbone Square.

“Thanks, Tom! Have a good night, yeah?”

“You as well, Mister Styles.”

“Call me Harry.” He paused outside the door to say, and Tom merely responded with a polite smile before waving farewell.

Harry entered the building hassle-free this time around, the two guards the same as before, though they didn’t engage in conversation. As he entered the common area, his eyes wandered, soon locking on the CEO who’d been settled on a stool at the bar. An uncomfortable flip surfaced at the pit of his stomach and he ignored Gemma’s words floating to the forefront of his mind as he made his way closer.

Brendon waved the bartender off as he spotted Harry and sidled from the bar, locking eyes with him in acknowledgement before jerking his head towards the elevator.

He didn’t say a word till they were in the lift, though Harry’s attention had drifted towards the view of London at night through the glass. “The drive go okay?”

“Yeah, it was great.” Harry replied politely, giving Brendon a reassuring nod before returning his gaze back to the view. As they climbed higher, the cars and people had become the size of ants, and he searched for Big Ben in the distance, spotting it just as the elevator began to slow down.

When he looked away, he noticed Brendon had been watching him, and could feel his face begin to uncontrollably grow hot at this.

“Enjoying the view?” Harry couldn’t help but shoot at him, slightly annoyed at the shamelessness the CEO seemed to feel when it came to the whole thing. Instead of responding, Brendon left the elevator, gesturing for Harry to follow.

It was as he left the lift that he realized he hadn’t entered a hallway, but a living room, and Harry was temporarily rendered speechless as he took in his surroundings which were far more astounding than their previous meeting place had been.

This living room was wider, an expensive couch and exotic chairs surrounding a granite coffee table in the center. As he wandered deeper, he noticed a dining room -- dark, wooden floors lining the area along with a long chandelier that extended towards..

A terrace.

“Holy..” He muttered, approaching the porch door and instinctively reaching for the handle before remembering his manners and looking back at Brendon.

He’d been trailing some distance behind, amusement etched on his features. At Harry’s look, Brendon was nodding in approval, decreasing the distance between them so he could reach for the handle and pull the door open. The brisk November air immediately hit his skin, though Harry, extremely used to it, let his bag drop to the floor and took a step outside.

The view was incredible.

Four padded, white chairs were strategically placed around a small center table, though Harry was moving around it towards the artful railing and looking beyond. The view was even more incredible than the elevator’s, the sound of cars beeping and music playing from outside of shops extremely faint from so high above.

The night had seemingly come to life from where he stood, and Harry had trouble drinking in every detail, from the bridge some distance away, to the water flowing underneath it, the large billboards advertising shows and movies and Broadway plays, and ant-sized bodies bustling from building to building.

“This is beautiful..” Harry muttered out loud. Unsure of whether or not Brendon had heard him, he turned around to find the CEO leaning against the doorway, watching him with that same, hard-to-decipher expression on his face. “D’you disagree?” Harry couldn’t help but ask, trying to get him to engage in conversation of _some_ kind.

“No, it is.” Brendon answered finally, nodding in agreement.

“D’you live here?” Harry then asked, aware of how stupid the question was but voicing it anyway, needing the confirmation.

“I do.” Brendon retorted with another nod, the tiniest smirk dancing on his lips.

“This is.. incredible. Honestly.” Harry continued to gush, ignoring how completely and utterly smug the twenty-seven-year-old looked at that moment and gazing back out at the view. Willing to stay there till it was prompted of him otherwise, Harry continued to watch below, wondering how many of the fortunate pedestrians had experienced a view as stellar as this.

“Can I get you a drink?” Brendon’s voice tugged Harry from his thoughts and he turned around to find him leaning on the door with his own drink in hand, the same dark one he’d been sipping on the previous month.

“Uh.. water would be nice. Thank you.” He muttered, shivering moments later and realizing how cold he’d gotten before following Brendon inside.

He shut the door behind him afterwards, following till they were reaching the kitchen -- the decoration just as expensive as everything else in the house. It wasn’t until Brendon was opening his fridge and pulling out a bottle similar to the one Hayley had given him that Harry realized how casually the CEO was capable of moving.

Every other time he’d seen the man, he’d donned a sort of swagger, undoubtedly to assert his dominance in said situations. Now, however, the strut was more toned down, still as confident, but with an element of relaxation to it.

“Where did you travel to?” Harry asked after taking the bottle, wanting to fill the silence with something other than his wandering thoughts.

“Just back to the US.” Brendon had been periodically bringing the glass to his lips.

“Oh, cool..” Harry murmured, becoming increasingly aware of how awkward he felt in the strong presence. “Where in America?” He was asking, and he’d taken a sip of the water only to visibly cringe moments later. Brendon noticed this, his own eyebrows raising slightly in response.

“Is it okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, it just..” Harry recovered quickly, twisting the cap on and eyeing the label. “Why’s it taste like that?”

“Like what?” Brendon looked genuinely interested for the first time that night, and Harry shook his head.

“Like.. bubbly. And.. orange.”

Brendon watched him for a moment, as if seeing whether or not he was being serious, then answered. “It’s sparkling water.”

Harry’s thoughts were drifting back towards the offer Hayley had made him a month prior: _regular or sparkling?_

“You’ve never had sparkling water before?” Brendon asked, amusement still etched on his features.

Harry shook his head, silently wondering who was the more ridiculous of the two in this situation. Out of experience, he figured it was probably himself.

“I can give you tap water if you prefer. Only really drink La Croix.” Brendon offered after a moment, gesturing towards the sink.

“No, no. It’s okay.” Harry retorted quickly, not wanting to cause any trouble. Brendon watched him for a moment with that same expression and the surge of annoyance that pulsed through Harry was harder to ignore. “What’s your problem?” He snapped after a beat.

Brendon looked visibly surprised at the question, eyebrows knitting together. “What do you mean?”

“You always..” Harry started, visibly flustered once again. “You’re always looking at me like that.” When Brendon didn’t immediately respond, he added on. “Like I’m.. some animal in a _zoo_ or something.” He could feel his face growing hot at the admission, which only made him more angry. “I don’t like it.”

"You don’t?”

“No.”

“I’m sorry.”

The apology had completely taken Harry off guard, that being the first time he’d heard _sorry_ leaving Brendon’s lips. He watched him for a moment, to sense whether or not he’d been joking, then after a beat, looked away. “When are we..? We should get to work.” He changed the subject, not wanting to linger any longer.

Brendon nodded at this, seemingly coming to his senses and gestured towards the hallway. “Just need to grab my camera. Be back in a moment.” He then sauntered from the room, leaving Harry to his thoughts.

The silence that followed grew thick and heavy, and Harry found his eyes wandering the spacious home once again. After some thought, he concluded that it was a penthouse, the term coming to mind from one of the many home decorating shows his sister would watch and it was as he was admiring a painting on a wall when he felt something soft and furry brush against his fingers. Curiously, he looked downwards, only to jump a mile high and let a yelp into the air once he registered the cat settled on the table, staring up at him.

He quickly backed away, nearly knocking into a tall lamp in the process and Brendon had entered the room moments later, camera in hand and eyebrows knitting together in a curious furrow. “Is everything alright?”

Harry had planted himself against the opposite wall, eyes locked on the animal who was still seated on the coffee table several feet away, eyeing him curiously. Brendon glanced between the two for a moment, analyzing the situation before raising his eyebrows even higher.

“You’ve seen cats..?”

 _"Yes, I’ve seen cats.”_ Harry couldn’t help but snap, breathing fast. “ _Vicious_. They’re _vicious_.”

A moment passed where Brendon was staring at him with clear disbelief etched on his features before placing his camera down and approaching the kitten. He scooped it into his arms and it rubbed its head affectionately against his sharp jawline.

“They’re definitely _not_ vicious.”

“Just keep it away from me.” Its fur was orange, decorated with brown spots, and bright, green eyes stayed fixed on the student who was rooted to his spot.

Brendon took a cautionary step towards Harry who shook his head and scooted away.

“He’s friendly.”

“I don’t care-”

“Just pet him-”

 _“Brendon, no.”_ Harry snapped, adopting a tone of ferocity he hadn’t had to use in a while. Brendon watched him for a moment, the cat already beginning to climb his shoulder before it's quiet meow was filling the silent room. “Just tell it to leave me the fuck alone. I don’t care how friendly it is, I don’t want to _pet_ it, I don’t want to _touch_ it.”

Despite how serious his tone had become, Harry’s voice was shaking, and he sincerely hoped Brendon wouldn’t press the matter further. After a moment, the CEO nodded and peeled the cat from his shoulders. “I’ll put him in my room.”

Not a minute had passed before Brendon was emerging once again, and he lifted the camera from the table before jerking his head towards the door. “Ready to go?”

“Yeah..” Harry nodded, face growing hot as he realized how badly he must’ve overreacted. Not at all compelled to elaborate on his fear of felines, he merely followed the CEO back to the elevator, avoiding his gaze as he sent them one floor down.

It wasn’t until he was following Brendon to the end of the hall that he realized what he had been wearing that day. The joggers had come as a surprise, the black material loose around his hips and hugging his legs more and more as it progressed downwards. The shirt was obviously expensive, despite the plainness of the material, and one of those Fitbit watches Harry was beginning to see everywhere was fastened around his left wrist instead of an expensive Rolex.

When he opened the door to the same apartment, Harry followed him in, shutting it behind him and eyeing his surroundings once again, though not as curiously this time around. It had been a silent affair, getting to the bedroom, and by the time they were reaching it, Harry noticed the lights were already set up, the case Hayley had pulled out the previous month on the bed.

Curiosity filled Harry once again as Brendon got his bearings, and he began to silently wonder if he’d set up _for_ Harry or had _already_ been set up for a shoot with _someone_ _else_. An unknown stab of jealousy coursed through him just then, and he silently chastised for thinking so highly of himself. He _had_ found the ad on Craigslist so of course there’d be other muses for the CEO to photograph.

Then Harry wondered if he’d paid them extra as well.

“D’you remember what you wore last time?” Brendon asked, the silky voice pulling Harry from his thoughts as the container was opened with a _‘snap!’_. He watched the CEO shuffle through the clothes for a moment before nodding.

“Yeah.”

“Okay, can you pick something you haven’t then? I don’t recall myself.”

Another stab of annoyance coursed through him. A month ago, the thought of the CEO merely using these photos for personal wanking material had been mortifying to Harry, but the knowledge that he hadn’t even given them a second glance seemed to fill him with even more offense. “Yeah.” Harry shuffled through the scandalous clothing, narrowing down to a few choice pieces in the end.

“You remember where the bathroom is?” Brendon asked, already settled in the chair and flicking through his camera memory.

“Yeah, I do.”

Changing had been a difficult affair, and Harry made the conscious decision _not_ to look at himself in the mirror before emerging five minutes later, figuring the shame that came with wearing the clothing had been enough without the vivid images in his mind.

After arriving back at the bedroom, he settled on the bed, the whole thing already feeling like routine despite the fact that this was only his second go at it.

“Take this.” Brendon pulled a lollipop out of his pocket and held it out for the twenty-year-old, who took it in hand and unwrapped it without argument.

The shoot had gone by far smoother this time around, Harry doing his best to channel his intoxicated self as he stared filthily into the camera, remembering Hayley’s words as he did so.

_You’ve flirted before, right? Tried to woo someone?_

“That’s good.” Not much time had seemed to pass before Brendon was coming out from behind the viewfinder, gaze fixed on the camera as he flicked through some shots. “You can get dressed.”

_That’s it?_

As he slipped back into his regular attire, Harry couldn’t help but let the disappointment wash over him -- both at the fact that the entire meeting hadn’t lasted long at all and at the fact that Gemma _possibly_ could’ve been right.

It was as he was returning the skimpy clothing to Brendon that he resigned to the fact that all of his behavior had been entirely unnecessary, and _perhaps_ he’d blown things out of proportion.

“Have you ever tried modeling?” The question had taken him off guard, Harry looking up from the decorated carpet he’d been staring into as they returned to the elevator. When Brendon pressed the button that’d lead back to his penthouse, Harry had been filled with hope -- only to realize that he’d left his backpack up there.

“No.. not really into that.” He finally answered with a shrug, following Brendon inside once the doors had opened once again.

“You sure? You could go far.”

As Brendon spoke, Harry cautiously navigated his way through the area in the off-chance the cat had escaped, then scooped his bag back onto his shoulder. “I don’t really know people like that..” His voice was colder than he’d intended, fully aware that his behavior wasn’t fair, but unsure of how to control it.

“I do.”

“And?” Harry couldn’t help but ask, finally looking over to Brendon only to see him flicking through his thickly-packed wallet. “Why are you being so nice to me?”

“Hm?”

“You heard me.”

Brendon looked up from the thick stack of fifties in his grip, the statement uttered with assertion even Harry hadn’t realized he’d been capable of. He went with it however, plundering on.

“I replied to your advertisement, I know that. We did the shoot, fine. You gave me extra money because you pitied me. Alright. So why did you reach out again?” He found himself snapping at the CEO who was wearing that same amused expression Harry _hated_. “Why did you come to my school? Why did you come to my classroom? Why d’you give me your email? Why did.. Why did tonight happen?”

As his thundering came to a halt and silence settled, Harry became painfully aware of how  _immature_ he’d sounded. Brendon had made it clear that he felt bad about the twenty-year-old’s situation, and if Harry hadn’t made how poor he actually was obvious -- his clothing had. His desperation _definitely_ had. As the seconds stretched on, Harry could feel his cheeks grow hot and merely extended his hand.

“Just.. Just give me the payment. I need to head home.”

Brendon eyed him for a moment longer before looking back down at the bills in his grip. He’d begun counting, and had gotten up to four hundred, before placing the remainder of the stack on it and approaching Harry.

Once he realized what Brendon was doing, he was shaking his head. “I can’t take that.”

“Yeah, you can. It’s fine.”

“I don’t want it.”

“Yes, you do. And you need it.”

Brendon’s tone was shockingly gentle, and Harry held his gaze for a moment, the tenderness taking him off guard to the point where he simply allowed Brendon to take his right hand with his left and place the stack on top.

“Consider it a gift.”

Harry didn’t say anything for a moment, eyeing Brendon with slight suspicion. After so much silence passed that he was sure he’d temporarily forgotten how to use his voice, he was clearing his throat and nodding. “Okay, erm.. Thank you.” He would’ve pulled his hand away had Brendon not still been holding it, and it was then that he realized how close in proximity they were.

Something in Harry kept him rooted to the spot, and he watched Brendon with bated breath who seemed to be silently deciding something.

The atmosphere had clearly changed, shifting from the mere transactional gesture to something.. thicker.

And it was as so long had passed that Harry had remembered that he needed to _breathe_ that he was exhaling slowly.

Then Brendon was taking a step closer.

And he’d forgotten to breathe again.

Harry felt Brendon’s hand that had been pressing the bills into his palm lift, instead fixing itself on the back of his neck and by then Harry was sure his heart was hammering so roughly against his ribcage he was positive it would burst through.

The last thing he recalled seeing was Brendon’s long eyelashes as they fluttered shut, and soon, he was doing the same.

Then their foreheads were making contact..

Noses brushing..

And finally, lips meeting in a gentle kiss.


	5. Greedy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Kissing him was easy._
> 
> _Too easy._
> 
> _Their lips moved against each other like clockwork, hands wandering **up** and **down** and **here** and **there** as they took in every ounce of each other._
> 
> _Harry was already moaning into his mouth.._
> 
> _**Fuck** , he had to slow down._
> 
> _But then he felt Harry part his legs, which only roused Brendon to wedge his own between them, the semi pressed against his thigh as a result only growing more noticeable by the second._
> 
> _**Fuck, he had to slow down.** _

It started out innocent enough. The tiny, nagging urge in the back of Brendon’s mind that had drawn him towards the twenty-year-old causing their brief night together to result in a kiss.

Then it quickly became more.

As he felt Harry’s lips part for him, Brendon was pushing his tongue through, granting himself entrance into the twenty-year-old’s mouth.

The money was quickly forgotten in the following seconds, bills floating to the ground like dandelion seeds, and he felt Harry’s fingers find his sides, gripping the material of his expensive shirt as if afraid at any second, Brendon would suddenly pull away.

The CEO’s left hand, now free, found the small of Harry’s back, and he brought him impossibly closer, already blindly beginning the path towards the wall Harry had been glued to only half an hour prior -- though this time, for entirely different reasons.

Kissing him was easy.

Too easy.

Their lips moved against each other like clockwork, hands wandering _up_ and _down_ and _here_ and _there_ as they took in every ounce of each other.

Harry was already moaning into his mouth..

 _Fuck_ , he had to slow down.

But then he felt Harry part his legs, which only roused Brendon to wedge his own between them, the semi pressed against his thigh as a result only growing more noticeable by the second.

_Fuck, he had to slow down._

But then Harry was pulling away from the heated kiss -- to stop it? -- no, to peel his tattered tee shirt off his body, revealing a torso Brendon had seen before, yes, but not like this.

And then he was tugging on Brendon’s shirt -- and who was he to deny?

The article of clothing was discarded moments later and his lips gluing themselves, this time, to Harry’s neck.

And he sucked.

He sucked till Harry’s nails were digging into the curves of his toned back, he sucked until the twenty-year-old was moaning in pleasure, he sucked till a deep bruise had formed there and then he sucked some more.

Then Harry cupped his face, forcing Brendon to look him in the eyes.

And it was with that look -- and that look alone -- that he realized there was no turning back.

The boy’s lips were already a cherry red from all the nipping and biting and selfish abuse Brendon had inflicted on them, the forest green eyes dilated from arousal, cheeks flushed -- though this time, not due to embarrassment -- and breathing shallow and rough and rapid.

_“I want you.”_

_Fuck._

As soon as Harry had uttered those three words, Brendon’s fingers found his thighs, and he hoisted the student up with ease.

Getting him down the hall had been a quick and distracted affair, but then he was recalling Harry’s distaste towards felines and rerouting them to the guest bedroom instead.

Hayley didn’t have to know.

Not bothering to shut the door behind him, Brendon placed Harry on the bed, the student sinking into the covers just as he was slipping his own joggers off his legs.

Peeling Harry’s jeans off had taken more work but the boxers had been an afterthought, the article of clothing meeting the ground some distance away.

Harry expertly spread his legs as Brendon made his way onto the bed, hands creeping up the soft covers on either side of the twenty-year-old till he was getting pulled down for another kiss.

He could feel the pre-cum beginning to ooze from the tip of Harry’s cock which only made Brendon that much more hot for him, the absolute and shameless lust coursing through the boy beneath him making his own hard-on throb.

Brendon’s fingers found the back of Harry’s brunette locks, and he’d given them a forceful tug which had earned another moan on the student’s part.

It was as he felt Harry’s legs wrap around his middle that Brendon rolled his hips against him, their cocks making contact, which in turn, resulted in Harry pulling him impossibly closer.

_“Fuck me..”_

_God, he’s filthy._

_“Fuck me, please..”_

_But in the best way possible._

Brendon, curious to see how far the boy was willing to be teased, left a trail of kisses down Harry’s neck and felt the twenty-year-old’s fingers run up his broad back and tangle with his thick, black hair.

As he crept lower, the CEO pressed his lips against Harry’s hardened, right nipple once before beginning to suck.

Brendon bared his teeth around the area once causing a hiss to escape Harry’s lips, and felt him react, though instead of pulling away, he was pushing upwards, towards his incisors.

And so he continued.

It hadn’t taken long to reduce Harry to a moaning, whimpering mess, the twenty-year-old writhing beneath him with every suck, nibble, and bite Brendon had graced the sensitive area with.

“Brendon, _shit_..”

At that moan, the CEO had surfaced, meeting Harry’s gaze once again.

For a moment, neither of them said anything, breathing hard -- the boy’s eyes glazed over and just barely visible due to the light pouring in from the hallway.

And then Brendon was giving him a peck.. then two.. then three, before pulling away and rummaging through the bottom compartment of the bedside drawer.

He’d pulled out a condom and some lube, courtesy of countless one-night-stands he’d had in the bed, then uncapped the bottle.

“How long’s it been?” Brendon asked, bringing one of Harry’s legs up and onto his shoulder as he slathered a generous amount of cold gel onto his middle and index finger.

He then watched Harry as the boy deliberated, the student briefly sending his gaze upwards as he thought.

“Like..” He muttered, clearly still out of breath but gaining it back quickly. “A week.”

_A week? That was it?_

Brendon ignored the stab of annoyance that coursed through him and applied pressure to Harry’s hole.

“How about you?- _ah!_ ” Harry gasped, clearly unprepared for how forcefully the CEO had thrust his digits into the tight hole.

Brendon didn’t answer, working his way deeper inside Harry who seemed more focused on opening up to the new visitors than anything else at that moment.

 _“Oh god..”_ Harry’s breathing had gotten heavier and deeper at a certain point, and it was after Brendon had brushed the tips of his fingers against the sensitive bundle of nerves a second time that he realized why.

Then the boy’s back was arching.

_“Fuck..”_

Like song, expletives poured from Harry’s lips as Brendon brushed against the area again and _again_ and _again_.

The CEO was accustomed to the reaction he’d get from this section of foreplay, however for some odd reason, the twenty-year-old seemed extra sensitive to it.

Harry didn’t seem like the type to fake those sorts of things in bed, and over time, as Brendon continued to tease the area, the boy only seemed to moan louder and louder.

Till _he_ couldn’t take it anymore.

Soon, Brendon was pulling out, giving himself the freedom to slip the condom onto his own throbbing cock, then he was lining himself up with the same hole.

“Ready?” He wasn’t entirely sure why he asked, gaze meeting Harry’s as he said this.

Harry nodded curtly once, then the CEO was pushing in.

The boy’s grip tightened, as expected, the little nails Harry had digging into the muscles of his pale back, and the grip only increased as Brendon made his way deeper.

 _“Fuck..”_ Harry moaned into his ear as soon as he was hitting the bundle of nerves, and Brendon could feel his own cock twitching with need at the twenty-year-old’s shameless reactions.

Then he was retracting and thrusting himself into Harry again, who moaned in response and tightened the grip his legs had on Brendon’s torso.

And he repeated the process.

Each moan seemed to come from a different part of Harry as Brendon found knew ways to hit the same sweet spot over and over again.

As time went on, his thrusting became more urgent, and soon he too was panting along with the sweaty student beneath him.

_“Oh god..”_

The combination of swear words pouring from Harry’s lips seemed to constantly change, and so did tiny variations of their missionary position.

As the look of utter bliss plastered on Harry’s handsome features had grown more regular, Brendon dug his hands into the blanket just above Harry’s waist, giving him the leverage to roll his hips in a regular circular motion that had the Brit’s eyes rolling back.

Long lashes came together as they fluttered shut and Harry’s breath quickened as he neared climax.

Not wanting to slow down, Brendon controlled his breathing, though his own gaze was fixed on Harry’s reaction as he switched rhythms so he was pounding into him again and _again_ and-

“Oh my god, _oh my god_ , _ohmygod_ , _ohmygod_..”

Then Harry was convulsing.

Back arching, fingers tightening in the sheets, and eyes snapping shut as semen came in waves from the tip of his cock, coating his chest in an artful manner Brendon was positive wasn’t safe for work.

Or school, for that matter.

It was only as Harry’s breathing had gone from quick and shallow to deep and long that Brendon finally broke the silence, fingers feeling at the damp locks that clung to the boy’s temple.

“I’m guessing you came.”

Harry’s eyes were flickering open moments later, and the forest green was lazily gazing into his own as he finally spoke up. “Was that a joke?”

Brendon didn’t respond right away, eyeing the way Harry’s brunette hair curled when it was wet and the sweat decorated his upper lip.

“..didn’t know you made jokes.”

“I can be funny.” Brendon quietly defended his case, eyebrows furrowing though it was only momentary, because then..

Harry was laughing.

And the warmth Brendon felt due to the strenuous activity seemed to spread elsewhere.. inwards.

It wasn’t like in the corny, romance movies where violins would start playing and sun materialize out of nowhere whilst angels sung.

It was real.

His laughter was a bit high, though rusty considering Harry’s voice was deep, eyes squinting shut and pink tongue peeking between a set of teeth as a giggle melted in the air -- probably as much of a shock to him as it was to the CEO.

Then Brendon found himself staring.

Staring at the way Harry lazily recovered, eyes fluttering open as fingers came up to brush his curls out of his face, lips fading to a pink from the redness that had been caused from Brendon’s incessant biting.

And he was speaking again.

“I’m so sorry.. You can go on.” Harry encouraged, senses suddenly coming to him moments later. “I don’t mean to, like, conk out on you.. You can go on.”

“No, it’s fine.” The statement had come as a surprise even to Brendon, who hadn’t ever gone a session of sex without orgasming himself.

Harry looked worn out however, and part of him wanted to grill the twenty-year-old on his seemingly sup-bar sex life before he was deciding against it.

“Are you sure?” Harry asked, hands coming up to keep Brendon, who had begun shuffling out of their intimate position, in place.

“Yeah, seriously. I last forever.” He reassured him, taking Harry’s wrists and gently prying them from their settled position around his neck. “Are you thirsty? I’ll get us some water.”

That seemed to be enough for the boy who allowed Brendon to unravel himself from their tangled limbs.

“Here.” Brendon then placed a tissue box whose home had been on the nightstand on the pillow next to Harry before removing the condom and slipping into the same joggers.

He lazily made his way to the kitchen, grabbing himself a bottle of sparkling water before finding a glass and filling it with the regular kind for Harry.

Though instead of heading right back, he paused.

And thought.

He hadn’t invited the twenty-year-old over with the _goal_ of fucking him, his intent entirely pure when he’d made that offer a week prior.

But seeing Harry again after so long had stirred something in him, a desire he hadn’t felt in a while.

Of course, it had been purely animalistic.

Though it was hard to deny the feeling that had risen within him as Harry had darted from one room inside the penthouse to the next, giving the home appreciation Brendon never seemed to be able to -- even when he’d initially moved in five years ago.

It had definitely stirred something inside him -- what, he didn’t know.

“Hey..”

Harry arriving had tugged Brendon from his thoughts, and he recovered instantly, holding the glass out to the student who’d taken it gratefully and drained half the contents in one go.

“Think I have to head out..”

Brendon’s eyebrows were raising at this, unaccustomed to being on the receiving end of a night ended early.

“Is everything okay?” He found himself asking, more concerned with whether or not he’d performed up to standard in bed than anything Harry was internally battling with at the moment.

“Yeah, yeah.” Harry responded politely, nodding, though his reactions were slow.

He seemed tired.

“I just.. promised my family I wouldn’t be back late.”

“Don’t wanna’ worry mom?” Brendon then asked, subconsciously prying for more information.

Harry merely shrugged before beginning to search the living area for the remainder of his clothing.

Brendon watched him do this, unsure of why another pang of annoyance surged through him.

“I’ll have Tom drive you back.” The CEO then offered, making his way to the living area and beginning to help gather the scattered fifties littering the floor.

When Harry didn’t respond, Brendon was eyeing him once again, the twenty-year-old’s movements clearly slower and more dulled than usual.

“Is that alright?”

“Hm?” Harry looked up from his crouched position, a stack of bills in his palm as well. “Yeah, that’d be wonderful. Thank you.”

It was even more difficult to understand him now, his British drawl and sleepy state slurring words together and Brendon had ended up gathering a majority of the money by the time the floor was cleared.

Harry had tugged on his hoodie by then and was shouldering his bag.

“Is that everything?” Brendon asked, becoming painfully aware of how many questions he was asking in succession.

“Mhm.”

Another pang of annoyance.

“Okay, well..” He held out the stack of bills to Harry who’d taken them and shoved them into the back pocket of his worn jeans. “I can walk you out.”

“Oh, no need. I can make my way down.” Harry reassured him as they approached the elevator, and for a moment Brendon was eyeing him suspiciously.

But then Harry was speaking up again.

“I had fun. Erm.. thanks for this.” He patted his back pocket, acknowledging the money as he met Brendon’s gaze. “D’you do hugs or is that weird?”

The question had taken him off guard, and Brendon was raising his eyebrows for a moment before shrugging carelessly.

“That’s fine.”

Harry approached him at this, wrapping his right arm around his neck as the left found his middle and pulled him close.

It was strange.

Brendon couldn’t remember the last time he’d properly hugged someone -- not even Hayley -- and momentarily, slightly awkwardly, reciprocated the motion.

Harry’s curls had temporarily obscured his view and his senses were filled with what smelled like strawberries and some indistinct flowers.

Brendon could only assume this was due to the fact that the boy’s family shared shampoo, and another feeling, something unknown, surged through him in that moment.

Not wanting to linger, Brendon loosened his hold, Harry mimicking the action seconds later, and he pressed the button for the lobby before taking a step away from the student.

“Thanks again.” He was murmuring as the elevator doors opened, and Brendon watched as he stepped into the lift.

Harry flashed a small smile and Brendon caught one last glimpse of the dimples in his cheeks before the doors were closing and the boy was out of sight.


	6. Disclosure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Harry watched Brendon for a moment, disbelief etched on his features before remembering Hayley’s comment. “You’ve always been rich, haven’t you?”_
> 
> _At this, Brendon was letting go of Harry, fingers now unbuttoning his shirt and he shrugged it off. “I’ve been comfortable.”_
> 
> _“You’ve been rich.” Harry watched as the CEO tugged his undershirt up and over his head, mind briefly wandering back to the last time he’d seen him in such little clothing. “Where’s the rest of your family? Are they in America too? What do your parents do?”_
> 
> _Brendon had been making his way to the hallway, and when he turned back around to face Harry, to his surprise, he was smiling. “You ask a lot of questions.”_
> 
> _“You haven’t told me a single thing about you.”_
> 
> _Brendon hovered where he was, clearly mulling something over._
> 
> _“I want to get to know you.” Harry pushed on, realizing he was pressing his luck and pushing anyway. “At least a bit. I don’t even know your middle name.”_
> 
> _“I don’t know **your** middle name.” Brendon shot back -- playfully? -- as he proceeded down the hall._
> 
> _“Edward.”_
> 
> _“Boyd.”_

The following week had Harry in a more chipper mood than usual.

Practically everyone in his life had noticed this, Gemma connecting the dots almost immediately though saying nothing -- courtesy of Brendon’s generosity, the family’s groceries had been taken care of for the next several days, even allowing each child to pick one thing of their choosing from the entire store.

They’d treated Emmaline to a trip to the toy store, and ever since, she spent every afternoon running around with her Iron Man action figure, skipping through the house and singing some unintelligible song she’d created for it specifically, frequently switching keywords out for the members of the family: GemGem, Hazza, Maxie, Matty, Ollie -- even Mommy and Daddy at one point, to her sibling’s dismay.

The mood at home had lifted considerably, and the older kids had stopped badgering Harry about his ‘secret santa’ after their third filling breakfast in a row.

His school work had improved noticeably as well. Though the days were getting colder and hour-long bike rides from the house to campus more tortuous, knowing he’d at least make it through the semester debt-free had lifted his spirits to make coping with the harsh weather possible.

And as the first day of December was finally rolling around, that month was already looking up. Harry arrived at the library later than usual that Thursday evening due to spending a few extra hours in the engineering lab.

Lids growing heavy as he took his usual seat in the corner, he’d logged into his email, eyes perking up in interest as he noticed the familiar notification.

_Inbox (1)_

Knowing full well no one from the school contacted him this late in the day, a surge of hope coursed through him as he opened the message.

_Harry,_

_Hayley decided to ‘surprise’ me this Christmas season with tickets to see Les Mis this Saturday. Not sure if you’re a theater buff, but I certainly would prefer to bring you as opposed to her to the show. She’s a known singer._

_Let me know your thoughts._

_Brendon._

Woah. Harry had to reread the message a few times to make sure he hadn’t been dreaming.

Then he was flooded with excitement.

The arts had always been a secret passion of his. It first coming to life when his mother had snuck him into a midnight showing of Rocky Horror Picture Show before he knew what sex even meant.

He’d always dreamt of what it’d be like to go to an actual theater, to sit in the crowd and watch each scene unfold before his very eyes -- especially in West End, London’s renown known theater district. Getting tickets had been a laughing matter, the prices so far out of their budget it would’ve been crazy to even entertain the thought.

Yet here he was.

He didn’t hesitate to hit reply, and was typing out the quickest messaged to the CEO he’d ever composed.

_Brendon-_

_I’d love to! I’ve always wanted to see Les Mis. Sounds like it’d be a good time._

_When/where should I meet you?_

_Harry_

It was only as he was sending the message that he became painfully aware of the fact that he had nothing even kind of worthwhile to wear, and the worry temporarily filled him till the notification bar was popping up seconds later.

_Inbox (1)_

Prompt as ever.

_I’ll have Tom pick you up Saturday morning._

_Be ready by ten sharp._

Harry had responded with a quick:

_Sounds great._

Before logging out of his account.

The fact that Brendon was sending his driver so early had to have meant something, and as Harry resisted the urge to practically skip out of the library and into the brisk December air fifteen minutes later, his mind raced through the possibilities.

Each more inappropriate than the last.

Friday had floated by surprisingly quickly, and as Saturday morning rolled around, Harry found himself being woken up by none other than their home’s human alarm clock -- an excited Emmy.

“Les Mis! Les Mis!” She’d chanted, tiny feet hopping on the creaky mattress Harry had been passed out on before he’d wrestled the giggling five-year-old into his arms.

“Shut the fuck up!” Max snapped at them both from his slumbered position across the room, and Emmy merely brew a raspberry his way before wrapping her arms around her older brother’s neck.

“Come on, baby. What are you feeling today?” Harry asked sleepily, checking his watch only to see that it was eight in the morning. “Pancakes?”

“Pancakes! Pancakes!”

Harry had given his best attempt at the breakfast food, managing to stack a plate high with the requested chocolate chip pancakes only to have it depleted in minutes by a hyper Emmy, sleepy Gemma, cranky Max, and distracted Ollie.

“Where’s Matty?” Harry asked, eyeing the dining table which was already filled with plates and several helpings of eggs and bacon.

“He said if anyone even tries to wake him up today, he’ll castrate them and hang their bits ‘round his neck.” Ollie murmured without hesitation, licking melted chocolate off his fork.

“Really?” Harry asked, eyebrows raising a few inches in surprise.

“Practically.”

Then he was rolling his eyes. _Practically_ was Ollie’s version of saying _no_ , the nine-year-old trained in the art of plucking lies out of thin air.

“You’ve got to stop fibbing, buddy.” Harry had gently scolded him, running his fingers through the nine year old’s thick, brunette hair as he passed him at the dining table.

“Are you not eating, H?” Gemma asked, a hot cup of coffee in her grip and squirming Emmy in her lap.

“No, he’s spending the day with his sugar daddy.” Ollie blurted out, and Max snorted into his cup of milk, bursting into a fit of laughter as soon as he caught his breath.

“Ollie!” Harry and Gemma had scolded him immediately, though Harry could feel his face growing hot at this.

“What’sa sugar daddy?” Emmy was asking, waving a piece of bacon before taking a ferocious bite out of it.

“It’s nothing. _Ollie_.” Harry scolded, once again, giving Gemma an exasperated look who only returned it with a shrug.

“Go get ready, otherwise you’ll be late. And I’m not running out of Coke any time soon, I’m already hooked.” Max shot at his older brother, the fifteen-year-old already on his third helping of pancakes.

“You’ve always been snortin’ coke. Hazza’s sugar daddy has nothing to do with it-”

_“Ollie!”_

Ten was rolling around before he knew it, and by the time the familiar Escapade was pulling into the driveway, Harry had dressed, Emmy had received enough kisses in her mind, and the rest of the family had vanished to their respective parts of the house.

“Morning, Tom.” Harry greeted the driver with a wave which soon turned into vigorous shaking as he noticed the driver starting to get out of the car. “No, no. I can open my own door, thanks. Really.”

“It’s not a problem, Mister Styles-”

“It’s fine and I told you to call me Harry.” He reached the door before Tomas could and slid into the backseat. “Promise I won’t tell Brendon.” He added with a kind smile before removing his hat and shaking his hair out.

The drive into the city had been just as fascinating as the first time around, two weeks prior. Harry gazed out the window, admiring the Christmas decorations that’d been put up. Things looked extra festive considering there’d been light snowfall the past few days, and pedestrians were either jogging from store to store to escape the cold or enjoying hot cocoa on benches strategically placed in the plazas around.

“You should see it at night, Mister-” Tomas hesitated before fixing himself. “-Harry.”

“I bet it’s gorgeous..” Harry agreed, eyes flickering from window to window before they were pulling into the driveway of the building.

Harry said his farewells to Tom before darting inside, arms stuffed in his coat pockets and collar pulled up to protect his cheeks from the biting wind. As soon as he entered the lobby, he was greeted by a familiar smile.

“Harry! Hey!”

“Hayley, hi! It’s been a while.” The Eurasian approached him excitedly, abandoning her seat at the bar and going in for an unexpected hug.

“Like months, right?” She agreed upon pulling away. Her platinum blonde hair was braided in a plait, a crimson beanie pulled down to just above plucked eyebrows. Her lips were a dark green today and an expensive coat hugging her torso. “Brendon’s upstairs. We were just discussing.. maybe.. a shopping spree?”

“Shopping spree?” Harry asked nervously, following her into the elevator.

“Yeah! I mean, I figured since you guys were going out tonight you’d need something decent to wear, right?” She asked excitedly as the elevator jerked upwards before adding, “No offense.”

“None taken. I was, uh..” Harry shrugged, gaze shifting to his shabby jeans and worn Converse. “..wondering if that’d be a problem.”

“Hey, I’m all about being yourself, but _West End_?” Hayley accentuated the location, looking to Harry as if he was supposed to be able to read between the lines. When his confused expression didn’t falter, she continued. “It’s just.. the demographic..”

“Not poor, I’m guessing.” He filled in the blank shamelessly, though his gaze was wandering out the large window. London seemed to be lying under a sheet of white, the Christmas lights glimmering considering there was considerable cloud cover that morning.

“You just wanna look your best, right?” Hayley reached out and cupped his shoulder before giving it an encouraging squeeze. “And we can help with that.”

“I don’t want to be a hassle-”

“You’re _not_ being a hassle, I _love_ shopping.”

“But the stores are _so_ expensive in this area..”

 _“Harry.”_ Hayley scolded him, head tilting slightly to the side as if he was being entirely unreasonable. The elevator was dinging moments later and she was strutting into the penthouse, heeled booted echoing on the wood floor. “It’s not a hassle, a price is just a number. Money should be the last thing on your mind.”

 _Easy for you to say._ Was all he could think as he followed her inside.

As he entered the living area, his eyes wandered, silently surprised it wasn’t donned with a single Christmas decoration. Though the more he thought about it, the more it seemed to make sense, festiveness probably not something that was generally high on Brendon’s priority list.

As his mind flickered to the CEO, Harry briefly wondered where he was. His silent query was answered seconds later as Brendon emerged from the hallway, clad in business wear and speaking rapidly on the phone. Remembering the context of the last time they saw each other, Harry’s stomach flipped uncomfortably, though that feeling dissolved as Brendon moved to the island in the kitchen, fingers busy with a briefcase as he shuffled through the contents -- not acknowledging him in the slightest.

“What are you in the mood for?” Hayley asked as she wandered over to the area, eyes fixed on Harry. “Hot cocoa? Rosmerta picked up marshmallows.”

As Harry made his way to the kitchen, Brendon seemed to find what he’d been looking for, and vanished down the hallway once again, a file in hand.

Hayley noticed his wandering eyes and cut in before his own thoughts could, “He’s always working.” She was placing two mugs on the granite surface before digging through a container of some sort. “I tried to tell him to turn off his work phone today, but.. you know Brendon.”

Though the more Harry thought about it, the more he realized that, no, he didn’t know Brendon. They’d only been in each other’s presence a handful of times and on one of those occasions they’d found themselves in very compromising positions.

“Hey, he’s glad you’re here.” Hayley spoke up once again, she seemed to have been watching him. “No one gets between him and work, seriously. But we have a _whole_ day in front of us so.. perk up and choose and a k-cup!”

“A what?” The term had effectively distracted Harry for the time being.

“A k-cup. You know. For the keurig.” She waved two containers in her hand, both adorned with Christmas-like decoration. They were smaller than the palm of her hand and seemed to contain some sort of substance. “Pumpkin spice pie?”

“Er.. sure.” Harry agreed, realizing just going along with whatever she had planned was much easier than requiring an explanation every time.

At this, Hayley smiled, and began bustling around the kitchen. “I like to add hot cocoa to it, because who doesn’t like chocolate? D’you drink coffee?”

“Not really.”

“How do you survive?” Hayley’s eyebrows rose a few inches though instead of sharing the fact that coffee was a luxury in his house -- not a necessity -- he merely took a seat at one of the chairs at the island. “When’s the last time you’ve had a cup?”

“Never.”

“You’ve _never_ had coffee?” The expression on her face reminded him of the one Brendon wore every time Harry had expressed any kind of ignorance or inexperience, and Harry found himself squirming awkwardly in his seat. “You are _such_ a gem. _God_ , I love you. Breath of fresh air.”

“You think so?” Her statement had caused his own eyebrows to raise this time, curiosity etched on his features.

Hayley nodded after pressing a blue button on some sort of machine. “ _Oh my god, yes._ You have _no_ idea what it’s like to _constantly_ be surrounded by people who know everything about everything and _then_ some.”

“It’s not that bad.” Harry’s eyes flickered to Brendon as he entered the room, file in hand and phone being pocketed with the other. “Makes my job way easier.” Brendon sauntered to his suitcase on the opposite side of the island which was only a few inches in front of Harry and placed the folder within before snapping it shut. “How was the drive?”

For whatever reason, it took Harry a moment to realize it had been _he_ Brendon was dressing, his reaction was slightly delayed as a result. “Good. It was good.”

_That’s it?_

As Harry wracked his brain to say something more interesting, Hayley cut in. “Aren’t the decorations just stunning?” She was pouring creamer into one of the mugs as they other was still being filled with her strange concoction. “Obviously talking about outside, Brendon hasn’t decorated since _ever_.”

“It’s a waste of money.”

“Since when have you been concerned about money?” The words had left Harry’s lips before he could stop them, and he could feel his cheeks begin to warm up as both Brendon and Hayley had stopped what they’re doing to gaze at him in surprise.

Hayley’s laugh was what broke the silence, her head falling back as giggles poured over her lips. Brendon was still gazing at him curiously. “He has a point.” Hayley cut in after calming down, and Harry could feel his own lips curling into a slight smile.

“It’s a waste of time.” Brendon corrected himself, still eyeing Harry for a moment before reaching for a mug and sipping from it. He could only assume it was filled with coffee.

“I think it’s fun.” Harry added with a small shrug. “Helps get everyone in the holiday spirit and that. You don’t like Christmas?” He asked Brendon who was leaning against the counter and watching Hayley float around the kitchen as if she owned the place.

Brendon shook his head at this. “It’s a useless holiday.”

“Because he’s been given _everything_ his heart desires since the day he was born.” Hayley added as she placed the red mug in front of Harry. “Tell me what you think.”

This being the first time Brendon’s upbringing was brought up, Harry clung to the topic, curiosity fueling him. “So you grew up..” _Rich_ was what he bit back. “..comfortable?” He’d brought the mug to his lips moments after this, and was momentarily distracted by the rich flavor. The pumpkin was apparent but the chocolate seemed to accent it nicely, the marshmallows adding a sweetness he didn’t realize was possible.

“You like it?” Hayley asked, eyeing his reaction excitedly.

“It’s _incredible_.” It was.

“Man, I need to bring you around with me for a day or something. You are _adorable_.” Hayley was gushing. At this Harry could feel his cheeks begin to warm up again, this time from embarrassment. Unsure of what to say to this, he brought the mug to his lips again, taking in the rich flavor and this time getting traces of the roasty-ness which only could have been the coffee.

“We should leave soon. Before it gets busy.” Brendon was telling Hayley after a moment, tearing his eyes away from Harry and looking to his assistant who was enjoying her own mug as well.

“Where are we going?” Harry asked, hoping his answer would be different than Hayley’s.

“Just to Mayfair.” Brendon answered, pulling out his phone as he said this and flicking through whatever it was he did on the device.

“Mayfair?” Harry nearly choked on his drink at this. “As in.. Mount Street?”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Yes!” Hayley echoed Brendon’s answer, hands coming together excitedly. “The best stores are down there.”

“The _most_ expensive.” Harry was cutting in, disbelief etched on his features. The only reason he knew this was because of the plethora of style and beauty shows Gemma watched on a day to day basis. “Absolutely not. One top there must cost..” He grappled for an adequate number. “.. _absolutely_ not.”

They were pulling up to the first location within the hour, the destination set in stone despite Harry’s blatant protests. They’d entered the first store, Hayley practically dragging Harry in, followed by Brendon, and she proceeded to float up and down the aisles, piling his arms with various clothing. Not bothering to check the price tag.

“This is too much.”

“Don’t be silly. You’re not getting _everything_.” Hayley murmured before eyeing a particularly ridiculous-looking pair of trousers with furrowed eyebrows. “What size are you?” At his lost expression, her mouth fell open. “Harry Styles, you don’t know your pants size?”

“I wear what fits-”

“Absolutely not. Excuse me!” She was disappearing moments later, probably to pester a worker, and Harry was turning to Brendon within seconds.

“I can’t let you do this.”

“It’s not a problem.”

“Brendon, I don’t..” Harry started, clearly flustered. “An outfit for tonight, fine. But past that.. No. I can’t. I won’t let you. I don’t dress like this.”

“But you could. So why not?” Brendon was asking in a tone so patronizing it took everything Harry had not to roll his eyes. “People will take you more seriously.”

“And who needs to take me seriously? I’m not you. I’m a uni student. I go between home and school. No one cares what _brand_ I’m wearing.”

“And what about me?”

“What do you mean ‘what about you’?”

For the first time ever, slight exasperation was ever-so-briefly flitting across Brendon’s features. He held Harry’s gaze for a moment before plundering on. “I’m not taking you shopping every time we go out.”

_We go out._

The statement had taken Harry off guard, who had been expecting something along the lines of an insult towards his ambition or life choices.

Not _we_.

“Where.. would we go?” Harry asked, voice low as he tread towards more delicate territory. Brendon clearly hadn’t been expecting to be asked to elaborate. Generally quick to answer, the CEO allowed a few seconds to pass.

“This play, for one.”

It was a safe answer. One that held no commitment to the future, and the slight disappointment that coursed through Harry left a bitter taste in his mouth.

“Right here!” Hayley was returning seconds later, and Harry was forced to turn away from Brendon who was back to browsing through his phone and to a worker with measuring tape in hand.

For the remainder of that morning, Harry let Hayley take the lead. The more they seemed to spend, the worse Harry felt, following Brendon’s words, the entire excursion seeming more like charity work than whatever the CEO’s true intentions were.

He’d only become painfully aware of how much Hayley had required them to spend after Tomas was entering the lobby of Brendon’s home, every inch of his arms taken up by a variety of shopping bags.

“At least let me help-” 

“That won’t be necessary, Mister Styles.”

_Mister Styles._

Harry eyed the driver as they rode up the lift, annoyance coursing through him for what felt like the thousandth time that afternoon and after the driver had taken his leave, Harry’s eyes then wandered the bags which lined every flat surface in the living area.

Hayley had exchanged several words with Brendon as Harry did this, and before he could even begin to wonder how much money was spent, she was approaching him, arms outstretched. “My work here is done.” She was uttering before pulling him in for a hug. “You two have fun!”

Once the lift shut with the assistant in it, the penthouse was silent, and Harry was chewing on his bottom lip.

“If you get changed we can probably grab dinner somewhere before the show-”

“I don’t want dinner.” Harry was uttering at Brendon who was fixing himself a drink of some alcoholic variety in the kitchen.

“You’re not hungry? You haven’t eaten all day.”

“What do you take me for?” Harry was asking, the pent up anger threatening to burst through. “A charity case?”

“No.”

“You know, you didn’t even consult me about this.” Harry made his way to the kitchen area, hovering at the opposite side of the island. “The play, yes. But _this_..” He gestured towards the sea of bags. “..I didn’t agree to this.”

“You needed something to wear tonight.”

“ _Tonight_ , yes. _Tonight_.” Harry’s fingers came down on the counter, fighting the urge to knock the glass Brendon seemed so fixated on out of his hand.

Brendon took a sip before meeting his gaze, his expression as bored as ever. “I don’t see what you’re so worked up about.”

“That’s because you have money to spend. Loads and _loads_ of money to spend, apparently. And I..” Harry shrugged fingers combing through his messy locks as he attempted to find a way to relay his feelings in a language Brendon understood. “I don’t need all this. This isn’t me. I don’t dress like this and I probably never will.”

“That’s your problem.” Brendon was pointing at him moments later. “You’re not ambitious, you think where you are is where you’ll be forever.”

“You don’t think I’m ambitious?” Harry didn’t bother hiding the defiance in his voice. “Were you not telling me I have practically _no_ chance at software engineering last month?”

“Okay, fine.” Brendon seemed to accept this. “You’re not smart about it.”

Harry fell silent. Dead weight seemed to sink in the pit of his stomach and he took a few cautionary steps away from the island. “You’re unbelievable.”

“I’m trying to help you.”

“I don’t want your help!” It was the first time Harry had yelled in a while. He’d scolded Ollie, yes. Told off Max and Matty and Emmy, but the anger had come from a place of love.

Not this.

“You are _so_ .. _God!_ ” His fingers found his temples as he turned his back to Brendon who’d raised his eyebrows in slight surprise.

“You want to pick and choose when I help you?”

“That's not-”

“So I can give you money, but I can’t get you clothes?”

“Clothes are a waste!”

“Clothes get you jobs.” It was the first time Brendon had raised his voice at Harry, who turned around and met his gaze. “You don’t believe image matters? Think again.” The tone was one Harry hadn’t heard before, commanding, authoritative. “You walk into an interview and don’t look like you’re worth your work ethic? You already lost the job. You try to get an internship while wearing _that_?” He gestured towards Harry’s outfit. “You might as well be Alice in fucking Wonderland. Yes, I feel bad for you. Yes, I’m trying to help you. But why is that such a bad thing? Because of your damn pride? Because no one’s just ‘handed’ you something ever before in your life? It’s not the worst thing in the world, Harry. Nobody gets this kind of opportunity and even fewer people are stupid enough to walk away from it.”

Harry watched him for a moment after silence had fallen once again before charging at the chair, grabbing his coat and slipping it on.

“Where are you going?” Brendon was asking, irritation clearly plastered across his features.

“Home.”

“You are so immature-”

“So then why’d you email me, huh?” Harry snapped, taking a step towards him, though they were still a considerable distance away from each other. “If I’m so goddamn _immature_ and _stupid_ and _ignorant_ and-”

“Harry, calm down-”

“No, _you don’t get it_!” And Harry was yelling again. “You don’t get what it’s like to be me! I don’t _care_ how whiny I sound, it’s fucking true! You don’t get what it’s like to not know where home’s gonna be next month or when you’re gonna have your next decent meal! You don’t get what it’s like to be responsible for four other human beings and be forced to _raise_ and _clothe_ and _feed_ them when you barely know how to take care of yourself! To make sure they go to school every day! Get their _fucking_ homework done! Find bullshite excuses every parent-teacher meeting! Explain to them why mommy and daddy only come to ‘visit’ every once in a while -- and _when they do_ they’re too _coked_ up to realize how _fucked_ up their children are! I’m fucking exhausted _all_ the time and I _barely_ know what I’m doing, all I know is that I want to make sure _none_ of my siblings _ever_ have to feel a _fraction_ of shitty as I do _all_ the time-”

Brendon had approached him by then and strong, but gentle fingers had come up to cup his face.

“Don’t _touch_ me-”

“Come here-”

“I don’t _want_ your help-”

“Just let me fucking _hold_ you, you stubborn son of a bitch.”

And Harry did.

Then he was crying.

Harry wasn’t sure how long it lasted, the sobs muffled in Brendon’s expensive button-down. He was sure he was shaking, though it was hard to tell how much considering strong arms had only wrapped tighter around his body, till his own fingers were grabbing bunches of the costly fabric. The sobs had grown quieter after a while, and soon all was left was labored breathing and obnoxious sniffling.

He didn’t register the gentle fingers running up and down his spine till after he began to try and catch his breath and the more selfish side of him kept him there even longer. He could feel Brendon’s breath against his ear, the gentle inhale and exhale syncing up with the rise and fall of his chest which was pressed against his own.

“I’m sorry..”

“Don’t apologize.” Brendon had retreated slightly, taking Harry’s face in both of his hands, thumbs wiping at the streaks that were probably staining his cheeks. “Seriously.”

Harry could only imagine what he looked like. “I’m an ugly crier.” Was what he muttered before sniffling once again.

“You are.” Brendon gently agreed, and Harry didn’t hesitate to gently shove his chest. “But it’s okay. I promise.”

Harry eyed him for a moment before allowing his gaze to fall to the wet stain on his top. “I messed up your shirt.”

“I have tons more.”

“Don’t doubt that..” He then muttered, eyes wandering to the sea of shopping bags still littering the living area. Brendon followed his gaze before looking back to him.

“I can return them if you really want.”

“No, that’s.. Don’t need to give Tom any more work than he already has.” Harry was shaking his head, mind going to the driver who -- in his opinion -- went above and beyond as it was.

“It’s his job.”

Harry watched Brendon for a moment, disbelief etched on his features before remembering Hayley’s comment. “You’ve always been rich, haven’t you?”

At this, Brendon was letting go of Harry, fingers now unbuttoning his shirt and he shrugged it off. “I’ve been comfortable.”

“You’ve been rich.” Harry watched as the CEO tugged his undershirt up and over his head, mind briefly wandering back to the last time he’d seen him in such little clothing. “Where’s the rest of your family? Are they in America too? What do your parents do?”

Brendon had been making his way to the hallway, and when he turned back around to face Harry, to his surprise, he was smiling. “You ask a lot of questions.”

“You haven’t told me a single thing about you.”

Brendon hovered where he was, clearly mulling something over.

“I want to get to know you.” Harry pushed on, realizing he was pressing his luck and pushing anyway. “At least a bit. I don’t even know your middle name.”

“I don’t know _your_ middle name.” Brendon shot back -- playfully? -- as he proceeded down the hall.

“Edward.”

“Boyd.”

Harry had been on the verge of following Brendon into his bedroom before remembering how the mysterious feline had been placed there the last time he’d visited, so he hung back, making room on the couch so he could sit.

“Does this mean you’re not hungry?” Brendon asked once he emerged, still in the same business pants but wearing a different top of the same style.

“Do we have to go out?” Harry couldn’t help but note how whiney he sounded at the moment. “I don’t want to be around..” _other rich people_ was what he wanted to say. “..people right now.”

“We don’t have to.” Brendon wandered back to the kitchen and plucked his glass from the counter before bringing it to his lips again.

“Why do you drink so much?” Harry realized this was yet another question, but it was one that had been weighing on his mind for a while.

Brendon wandered towards the living room and settled himself on a chair some distance away, removing a shopping bag from it so he could sit comfortably. “I like to.”

“You think it tastes good?” Harry was asking, trying to ignore the disappointment he felt at the newfound distance.

Brendon was shrugging at this. “It tastes fine.”

“So you like how it makes you feel?”

He was shrugging again. “I guess.”

Harry watched him for a few silent moments and Brendon eyed him back. When moments stretched into nearly a minute, this time it was he who was breaking the silence. “What are you thinking about?”

“You.” Harry answered honestly. “You’re just.. odd.”

“Odd?”

“You’re so.. _indifferent_ about everything.”

“Not everything.”

“Yeah? Your work doesn’t count.” Harry was murmuring, slouching in his seat and fingering a gift bag absentmindedly.

“Not just my work.”

“So what else?”

Brendon brought the glass to his lips, draining the remainder of the drink before leaning forward and placing it on the coffee table. “You.”

Like clockwork, Harry could feel his face begin to grow hot at the admission. “You enjoy criticizing me, yeah. We knew this.” He murmured, avoiding the CEO’s gaze.

“I criticize you because I want you to succeed.” Brendon was saying. “I want you to learn from someone who actually knows what they’re doing.”

Harry had to resist rolling his eyes, the preachy tone effectively making him feel small once again.

“But that’s not what I was referring to.” At this admission, Harry’s gaze was flickering up from the shopping bag and to Brendon who had been watching him. “I find you interesting. You fascinate me.”

 _Fascinate._ The word had immediately made Harry think of the animal in a zoo analogy he’d told Brendon the previous month. “Glad my poor lifestyle is entertaining to you.”

“You’re such a drama queen.”

“A _drama_ queen?”

“Harry, I find you fascinating as a person.” Brendon continued, ignoring the defiance in Harry’s tone. “Money aside. You have an aura I’ve never experienced before. You’re very hard to say goodbye to.”

Harry was sure this was the first time the CEO had complimented him, and it was impossible to stop his cheeks from turning the deep shades of crimson they probably were in that moment.

“You’ve probably heard it before-”

“I haven’t.”

“Then you _must_ have noticed it. Otherwise you’re just as oblivious as you are ignorant.” Before Harry could grow even more offended, Brendon continued. “People look at you as if you shit gold. We were out for maybe two hours? And I counted at least ten people who hit on you.”

“You’re being ridiculous.”

“Not to mention you’re so humble it actually gets on my nerves.” Brendon was watching him now, the confessions rolling off his tongue as if he’d been rehearsing it for weeks. “You’re probably the kindest person I’ve ever met - including Hayley - and you treat people far better than they deserve.” He reached forward for his glass before standing up. “Me included.”

Harry watched him saunter back to the kitchen, staying silent as he fixed himself another drink then wandered back to his seat. “But you’re also incredibly naive.” Brendon continued after getting comfortable. “And insanely hot-headed. It’s surprising because you didn’t seem like anyone could get under your skin when I first met you.”

“Yeah, well..” Harry cut in, red as a tomato and avoiding his gaze. “..you can be a right prick a lot of the time, so.. it’s just you, really.”

“I know.” Brendon agreed to his surprise. “And I’m working on it. At least with you.”

Harry looked back to Brendon who was sipping from his glass again, suspicion etched on his features. “You’re unbelievable.”

“Please don’t start yelling again.”

At this, Harry’s eyebrows furrowed, and as Brendon’s glass was meeting his knee the smallest smile danced on the CEO’s lips.

“Next time I’m just throttling you.” Harry murmured, though at the joke he was lightening up considerably. “You give me the worst whiplash, swear.” And he began to pull the packing paper out of the shopping bags, figuring there was no better time than the present to get dressed. “You’re better at this clothes rubbish than I am. Help me, will you?”

It was the first time he’d given Brendon a direct order and was surprised to see the CEO take the bag nearest him and begin to go through the contents.

As he held up a top Hayley had picked out that morning, Harry peered over at Brendon who was looking at a pair of trousers with clear disgust and smiled to himself.


	7. Cherry Blossom, Raspberry Sorbet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“Is that good?” Brendon found himself asking, the awkwardness of the question extremely apparent considering he very rarely found himself in such a vulnerable position._
> 
> _Harry’s breathing had gotten long and deep again, and Brendon could catch whiffs of the same flowery shampoo he’d noticed when they’d hugged for the first time in his thick locks of hair._
> 
> _Getting no immediate response, he assumed the twenty-year-old had fallen asleep and adjusted his legs ever so slightly to get more comfortable, them tangling with Harry’s as a result._
> 
> _And it was as the stillness returned that the silence was being broken, though this time, not by Brendon._
> 
> _“Perfect.”_

Meetings.. and more meetings.. and presentations.. and more meetings..

Brendon wasn’t sure whether it was reality or a trick of the mind, but days seemed to take longer to go by lately. By the time he was scrolling through his calendar, checking to see his availability, he noticed it was only Tuesday.

Then his mind wandered to Harry.

The whirlwind of a day had occurred three days prior. And though the morning had started rocky and resulted in a heated argument, the night had been -- to put it bluntly -- pleasant. They’d stayed in and ordered room service, enjoying an exotic Thai dish neither of them were familiar with. They then attempted to put Harry in one of the outfits Hayley had charged to one of Brendon’s endless cards and were dropped off at West End by Tom.

Harry had donned the same look he always had when encountering a new aspect of Brendon’s life, the kid in a candy shop expression lingering as they walked underneath all the fairy lights and passed the stores till they’d reached the theater. There, it was revealed to the student that they had one of the best seats in the house, and when his eyes weren’t locked on the acting and spectacle in front of him, his nose was buried in the playbill -- occasionally surfacing to point out some fact or other to Brendon who paid attention merely to entertain him further.

Harry also expressed curiosity in the drink Brendon had been sipping on and ended up finishing the entire cup before intermission, only to finish the CEO’s second drink by curtain call. Brendon couldn’t say he was entirely upset about this, Harry clinging to his arm for support as they left the theater as a result and talking more in the minutes that followed than he had the entire time they’d known each other.

Brendon didn’t mind, watching the way Harry’s eyes grew wider as he recalled his favorite parts of the show. His cheeks were flushed, partially because of the intoxication and because of the harsh winds, and lips a deeper shade of pink from the incessant licking as he attempted to moisten it due to the cold. His brunette locks were flying this-way and that, though wherever the wind had taken it, it seemed to fall perfectly into place, curls bouncing as Harry gesticulated excitedly.

It was incredibly endearing and extremely unnerving for Brendon who hadn’t been able to focus on much else in the days that followed. That Sunday he’d immersed himself in his work in an attempt to remind himself that other things mattered _more_ than emerald eyes and a winning smile. Though the dull meetings he was forced to be present in didn’t make keeping his mind off Harry any easier.  And it was during a particularly boring one that Tuesday afternoon that he’d given in and switched apps on his iPad, opening up his personal email and composing a message.

_Harry,_

_What are you doing tonight?_

_B_

He checked the time after sending this, seeing that it was only two and was sure he wouldn’t receive a response in a while considering Harry checked his inbox during specific times of the day. Brendon had grown familiar with this upon realizing Harry was one of the few people his age who didn’t have a phone.

He wasn’t receiving a response till later that evening, Brendon sitting in a presentation he was meant to be paying attention to, but the notification had stolen his attention.

_Inbox (14)_

He opened it.

_Brendon-_

_Homework mostly. I have a project due Friday I’d like to get a head start on._

_Why?_

_Harry_

Brendon was rolling his eyes at this, not at all surprised Harry was the responsible type. He was composing a message moments later.

_Come over later. I’ll help you with it._

_B_

Brendon was aware he wasn’t being entirely clear about his intentions, but upon further thought he realized he wasn’t entirely sure _why_ he was trying to insert himself into the student’s life on a weeknight anyhow. He was receiving a message back moments later and decided to shove his thoughts aside for the time being.

_Okay. My last class ends at six._

_H_

Brendon typed back a quick _‘Tom will pick you up then.’_ before shifting his attention back to the presentation at hand.

Though his eyes frequently darted to the analog clock on the wall, the second hand seeming to go slower and slower with every passing second.

Brendon was leaving the office an hour and a half later, aware of the fact that he’d need to give Tom ample time to find Harry’s campus and locate him once he arrived.

After being dropped off, the CEO changed out of his business attire, donning the familiar joggers and nice shirt before pouring himself another drink. Then he sipped on it, seated at the kitchen table and flicking through emails, though his mind was clearly elsewhere.

Sooner than he realized, the quiet ding from the elevator lift was filling the air, and a red-nosed, pink-cheeked Harry was making his way into the penthouse. He was bundled up to a T -- the only visible part of him his face.

“It’s getting colder and colder.” Harry muttered, pausing at the entrance to remove his snow-covered boots before padding inside. “It’s nice and warm in here though..” He added, slowing to a stop once he reached the island and eyeing Brendon’s iPad. “How useful are those tablets?”

Brendon, who had had the same email from when he initially sat down open, closed out of the app and pushed the device towards Harry. “Not very. Depends on what you need it for, I guess.”

Harry eyed the iPad carefully, glancing at Brendon once more as if silently asking for permission before slipping his hat off and peering down at it. Brendon watched as Harry flicked through it, his motions awkward probably due to the fact that he didn’t encounter many touch screens in his life. The bright, white light illuminated his features, and Brendon noticed the bags under his eyes.

He must not have been getting much sleep.

“Have you ever played Angry Birds?” Brendon asked after some silence, causing Harry to look up and meet his gaze curiously.

“No, what is that?”

“It’s a game. Here, I’ll show you.” Brendon pulled out the chair next to him and Harry peeled his coat off his shoulders, placing it on the back and revealing a hoodie underneath, before slipping into the seat. The CEO had opened the app by then and was pushing it back towards him.

“Oh, is this that like.. The one where you use the birds to knock down the fortresses and stuff?” Harry asked, studying the graphics with a furrowed eyebrow to show he’d been thinking.

“Yeah. Here, watch.” Brendon pressed play and the first level set up. After a moment, he used his finger to launch the bird which knocked down the first fortress in one go.

“I’m going to be horrible at this.”

“Just try it. It’s a game.”

After a moment, Harry did the same. As soon as it collided with the stack and green birds within, Harry’s eyes were widening, though a laugh was pouring over his lips, the same sound that made Brendon think of their intimate night together some time ago. “This is so violent.”

“You think this is violent? You should try some actual games.”

“I’ve seen..” Harry started, looking up after completing another level and meeting Brendon’s gaze. “I’ve seen, like, shooter games and stuff. Just never really played it.. That’s more Max’s and Matty’s thing.”

“Why not?” Brendon was asking, resisting the urge to allow his gaze to wander towards the lips Harry seemed to toy with more often the colder the weather became these days.

“I dunno.” He was shrugging and gazing back down at the screen again, eyeing the environment before launching the bird again. This time, the bird had missed, and Harry’s eyebrows furrowed in annoyance as he tried again.

“What do you do for fun?” Brendon found himself asking, realizing he’d never brought this sort of topic up before.

It took Harry a moment to respond, his eyes on the game as he shot his last bird at the fortress. It made contact and his furrow was relaxing. “Fun? Um..” He looked up from the iPad again and emerald eyes wandered towards the ceiling as he thought. “Hang around with my mates, I suppose? Well, my _mate_..” It had turned into an admission. “My other friends are sort of wankers now.”

“Not into school? Brendon asked, unsure of why he was prying for more information.

“Not really..” Harry was admitting and his eyes had donned a sort of far-away look, as if he was reliving a particularly sour memory.

“Is that all?”

“I mean,” Harry was shrugging again. “I don’t really have much time for anything.” Then he was placing a finger on the counter as he listed off his routine. “School on the weekdays, by the time I get back I’m making supper for the little ones.. Have to help them with their homework, then once they’re in bed _I_ have to do _my_ homework.. Then I’m pretty exhausted and it’s pretty late, so I go to bed.. And repeat the process the next day.”

“And on the weekends?” Brendon pressed on, fingers running over the rim of his liquor glass.

“Weekends, um..” Harry paused to think once again. “Saturdays, Emmy generally wakes me up.. I end up making breakfast for everyone if Gemma isn’t already at it.. Then I do laundry, help her tidy up the house, work on any projects if any of them have any -- which they generally do -- make sure they’re not starting any fires.. I mean..” Harry was shrugging again. “Gemma works both jobs during the weekends so I’m usually the one at home.”

“Your brothers can’t take care of themselves?” Brendon couldn’t help but ask, mind trying to remember how many siblings he’d mentioned.

“I don’t want them to have to worry about that sort of thing, B. They need a childhood.”

“And you don’t?” Brendon knew he was being unfair. Harry was fiercely protective of his family and their living conditions, so he realized he was treading into dangerous waters. When Harry didn’t respond, he took it as a good time to change the subject. “I’m glad you were able to sneak away for an evening.”

Harry seemed to appreciate this, and met Brendon’s gaze with kinder eyes. “Yeah, me too.”

Then it became quiet.

The atmosphere resembled the one that had ended heated a few weeks prior, and Brendon found himself at a crossroads. Harry hadn’t looked away which only made it harder to ignore, how close they were sitting, how those green eyes were practically begging for it.

To be kissed.

Brendon had noticed it fairly early and his thoughts had been correct, Harry was terrible at masking his true feelings when it came to literally _anything_. Though upon further thought, was that supposed to be a bad thing?

In these sorts of situations, Brendon couldn’t see the downsides.

His right hand had reached up after a few moments and brushed a stray lock of hair from between Harry’s eyes, though instead of letting his hand retreat, his fingers buried themselves in his head of hair. Harry’s eyes had briefly shut at the small affection, fluttering open moments after so he could meet his gaze once more.

And before Brendon could talk himself out of it, he was guiding Harry’s face closer to his, eyes fluttering shut once their lips were meeting in a kiss.

It was gentler than last time, the urgency not as apparent, and Brendon guided Harry’s lips as he tilted his head slightly to the right. Harry was following effortlessly, lips parting and asking for tongue which Brendon granted him without a second thought.

As their lips continued to dance, he could feel Harry’s fingers creep up his chest, feeling at his toned torso before finding the back of his neck. Then he was pulling Brendon closer.

Brendon wasn’t sure how much time had passed, his thoughts revolving around _Harry_ and _Harry’s lips_ and _Harry’s tongue_ and the tiny moans that occasionally escaped every time Brendon would nibble on his bottom lip or suck on it in a way he liked.

It was slow though. Slow and careful but still sexy? And Brendon was forced to remind himself that they had an _agenda_. He wouldn’t allow himself be the reason the student started doing poorly in school, no matter how much he wanted to tear those annoying articles of clothing off his body and make him scream his name.

Again.

“Okay..” Brendon was breathing against busy lips after a few minutes. “Harry..” Harry had leaned in for additional kisses every time Brendon pulled away, making it difficult to speak. “Harry, hey.” His hand found Harry’s cheek, keeping him from leaning in more despite his own urges. “That project? Probably a good idea to get it started.”

It was as if he was Father Christmas delivering coal, the intensity in Harry’s eyes dissolving as the realization dawned on him. “Right, yeah..”

“We can get it out of the way. Shouldn’t take too long.”

The statement seemed to stir something in Harry, who was clearly on the verge of asking one of his never ending lists of questions. “D’you know anything about software engineering?”

His curiosity something that greatly amused Brendon, the CEO watched the way his eyebrows knitted together in a furrow before nodding. “I studied it for a bit in college.”

“Is there anything you can’t do?”

At this Brendon was thinking, before deciding to answer the rhetorical question. “I’m really bad at ironing.”

For some reason, this seemed to greatly amuse Harry, who eyed him for a moment before bursting into a fit of laughter. His nose scrunched as he did this, eyes squinting in the way it always seemed to as his giggles filled the air. It was as Harry was slouching in his seat that Brendon realized his arm was still on the back of it, though he couldn’t bring it in himself to retract it.

“You know,” Harry began after he’d calmed down, fingers rubbing at his eyes tiredly. “You can be funny.”

“I _can_ be funny?” Brendon asked, eyebrows raised in amusement. “I’m not a funny person in general?”

“Are you being sarcastic? I can’t tell.” Harry asked, which earned a small smile on Brendon’s part.

“You can be quite rude.”

“No way I could ever threaten your title.” Harry murmured as he slipped off the chair and padded to his backpack which he’d abandoned in front of the lift. “You’ll always be reigning champion in that category, I reckon.”

Brendon didn’t respond to this, only getting out of his seat as well so he could make his way to the living room. He settled on the couch, placing his drink on the coffee table, and Harry took the seat directly next to his, the center cushion, before opening up his backpack.

This had taken a few tries, the zipper clearly unwilling to move from its spot, and it was only as he was finally getting it open that Brendon decided to speak up. “At least let me get you a new backpack.”

“This one works fine.”

Brendon couldn’t resist rolling his eyes at this. “They barely cost anything. I could have Tom pick you one up right now.”

“I’ve had this bag for ages, Brendon.”

“Yeah, clearly.” He murmured under his breath. Harry paused at this, placing his notebook on his lap, and shot the CEO a glare. Brendon pressed on: “You’re being ridiculous.”

“I’m not.”

“You are, and you know it.”

Harry didn’t respond to this, merely pulling out two pencils and a large eraser before beginning to flip through a thick binder. Deciding to file the argument away for later, Brendon watched him flipped through his work before another realization was dawning on him. “How do you program?”

“Hm?” Harry asked distractedly, eyes fixed on a worksheet he’d pulled out.

“For your major. When you have coding homework, how do you program?” Brendon watched Harry as he asked this, ready to catch any trace of dishonesty in his answer once he responded.

“I write it down then use one of the computers at school.”

“The next day?”

“Yeah.”

“Doesn’t that take forever?” Brendon was asking, doing his very best to keep his tone without judgment despite his complete and utter disbelief. Harry was jotting something down on the worksheet now and took a few moments to respond.

“I suppose.”

“How early do you leave for school each day?”

“Brendon..” Harry began, finally catching on now that he wasn’t distracted. He met Brendon’s gaze with a slight raise of the eyebrows. “You’re supposed to be helping me with this homework..”

“I am-”

“ _..not_ grilling me.” Harry raised his voice as he said this, and his expression was one Brendon was quickly becoming familiar with. His _I’m not in the mood_ look.

“I’m not grilling you.”

“‘You’re helping me.’ I know.” Harry completed his sentence without a second thought, eyes flickering back to his worksheet. “What I need help with right now is this code. Are you going to give me a hand or not?”

It had taken everything in Brendon’s power not to argue, instead shifting his gaze to the worksheet in Harry’s grip.

After about thirty minutes of discussing the drills, Brendon was realizing how behind Harry was to the actual coursework. Not that he didn’t _understand_ it, but for questions that took him three steps to answer, it took Harry ten. Brendon’s patience was tested to the ultimate limit, and by the end of it all, he was astonished to see that it was nearing ten at night.

“Have you had dinner?” Brendon was asking though he already knew the answer. Harry was shaking his head, eyes fixed on his backpack as he stuffed it to the brim with his coursework. “I can order something from downstairs again.”

The phone call with the front desk had been quick, and by the time the food arrived twenty minutes later, Harry was lounging sleepily on the couch.

Brendon had poured them both water and was bringing it to the table just as Harry’s eyes were shutting for the third time in a few minutes. “Tired?”

“No, I’m okay.” Harry lied, sitting up and eyeing the Italian cuisine hungrily.

Brendon was surprised at the impressive speed Harry had finished the food, concluding that it had either been a long time since he’d last eaten or a long time since he’d had a decent meal in general. It was as he was clearing the area that he noticed Harry nodding off again, and returned to the couch only to find his eyes shut completely this time, mouth parted slightly, and breathing long and deep.

“Hey..” Brendon nudged him gently, and Harry’s eyes were fluttering open. “A bed would probably be more comfortable, come on.”

“I should.. probably.. head home..”

“Harry, you’re exhausted.”

“Gemma..”

“Do you want to call her? You can use my phone.” Brendon offered, pulling the device out of his pocket and opening up the app.

As Harry took it in hand and dialed the number, Brendon led him to the guest room, sitting on the edge as Harry muttered sleepily to his older sister. Soon he was hanging up and holding the phone back out for Brendon to take.

“Everything squared away at home?” He was asking a semi-conscious Harry who was struggling to slip his hoodie off his person. After watching pitifully for a few more moments, Brendon was shuffling to his side of the bed. “Let me help..”

Undressing him had been easy, and it was as he was setting the clothes aside and shutting the light off that he felt tired fingers wrap around his wrist.

“Stay.”

At this, Brendon was eyeing Harry. It was hard to make out much of him, his figure illuminated only by the light pouring in from the hallway, and Brendon glanced at his watch which was reading _10:50pm_ before glancing at the tired body below him.

“I’m not very tired..”

“Can we just cuddle for a bit?”

At the shameless question -- _thank god for the darkness_ \-- Brendon could feel his own cheeks warm up. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been given such a direct, specific request, especially when it came to such an intimate activity.

“Yeah, I guess.” Brendon was agreeing, and he cautiously crept onto the opposite side of the bed so he could get under the covers as well.

As soon as he’d settled, he felt Harry shift, slowly backing into him in only what he could assume was a little spoon position. It having been so long, it took some adjusting for Brendon to find an appropriate place for both arms. His left, worming around Harry’s middle in order to pull him close and his right finding its way underneath their shared pillow for extra support.

“Is that good?” Brendon found himself asking, the awkwardness of the question extremely apparent considering he very rarely found himself in such a vulnerable position.

Harry’s breathing had gotten long and deep again, and Brendon could catch whiffs of the same strawberry shampoo he’d noticed when they’d hugged for the first time in the thick locks of hair.

Getting no immediate response, he assumed the twenty-year-old had fallen asleep and adjusted his legs ever so slightly to get more comfortable, them tangling with Harry’s as a result.

And it was as the stillness returned that the silence was being broken, though this time, not by Brendon.

“Perfect.”


	8. The King of Ancient Egypt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“You can come pet him.. He won’t bite. I promise.”_
> 
> _“You promise?”_
> 
> _“Cross my heart.”_

Finals were in full swing.

Harry had been eternally grateful for Brendon’s assistance that past Tuesday, the short tutoring session reminding the student _just_ how behind he had been in his coursework. This, of course, had also adversely aided his anxiety which seemed to spike as deadlines upon deadlines approached.

He was only one week away from the final day of classes and, in his mind, he still had heaps of work to do. In addition to homework and after-class group project meetings, he was still juggling his home life, which only seemed to get more and more hectic as time went on.

Gemma’s ex, Alia, was back in the picture. A -- now ginger -- twenty-three-year-old of Indian descent, she’d been floating in and out of Harry’s older sister’s life for over the past six years. They’d met at a party and proceeded to pump destruction into each other’s lives, regular fights adding even more chaos to the upended household in Hounslow, London.

Harry didn’t care for her, that much was clear. Ever since their third break up, that had occurred at his graduation and resulted in a cake he’d spent months saving up for getting smashed against the wall, he greeted the temporary entity with a grunt of acknowledgement and roll of the eyes.

Gemma was clearly still in love despite their rocky foundation, and was back to frequently inviting the girl over during family movie nights and whenever else her heart pleased. The only person in the family who held Harry’s feelings was Max, the fifteen-year-old who was old enough to remember their tumultuous relationship, and he hadn’t been overly enthusiastic about this rekindling either.

It was for this reason exactly that Harry was spending more time at school in the final days of the semester, often lingering at the library till late at night as it was now open twenty-four hours for final season. He was in the middle of a particularly annoying software engineering project that Friday evening when he’d noticed an email notification.

_Inbox (1)_

He didn’t have to wonder who it was this time.

_Harry,_

_What are you doing tomorrow afternoon?_

_B_

Harry was moments away from typing a response till his mind wandered to the current state of his home. Alia had been spending more time around the house, undoubtedly due to the fact that the kitchen was more stocked than usual, and he was almost positive she was there with Gemma now, clearing out their cabinets with no intention of reimbursing them in the slightest.

_B,_

_Studying’s the only thing on the agenda this weekend._

_What are you doing tonight?_

_H_

The more selfish side of him had won, figuring Alia’s presence would be enough entertainment to keep Emmy distracted for at least the next two days. He was receiving a response in seconds.

_Have a conference call and some work to finish up._

_Why? Want to come over?_

Harry couldn’t ignore the flip his stomach had done at the question, the CEO effectively reading his mind on the matter. Part of him wondered why Brendon was being so generous, but then his mind was wandering to their last meet-up only a few days prior.

_If it wouldn’t be too much of a bother?_

_I have work to do too so I won’t bug you or anything._

Then he was struck with unease. The last thing he wanted to do was start using Brendon’s home as a refuge or a means of escape from his current living situation, but considering he was now running on two hours of sleep a night, ignoring the guilt was growing easier and easier.

_I’ll have Tom pick you up. Be ready in 20._

Harry checked the clock immediately after.

_6:42pm._

Then he was beginning to pack.

The driver arrived at exactly seven on the dot and Harry didn’t hesitate to thrust himself into the backseat of the Escalade, grateful that he wouldn’t have to spend that night waiting in the freezing cold for a bus that may or may not arrive on time.

He spent the drive back to Rathbone Square nodding off, temporarily narcoleptic considering his current living conditions, and was nearly dozing when Tom was coming to a full stop. The journey upstairs was second nature by then and as soon as he was entering the well-heated penthouse, Harry was slipping off his boots and rubbing his fingers together from the cold.

Brendon was nowhere to be found, though as Harry made his way to the living area, he noticed the ginger cat lounging on the coffee table, tail swinging back and forth as it hung off the edge. Harry froze at this and eyed the feline cautiously.

Its emerald green eyes were watching him carefully and they committed to a stare-off till Brendon’s voice was breaking the silence. “I was just about to lock him away. Lost track of time.”

_Lock him away._

Harry was overcome with a wave of guilt as he realized just how selfish he must have been acting the past few weeks, having been the one to enter the cat’s home and restrict it to a bedroom for the duration of his stay.

“Wait.” Harry was muttering just as Brendon was bringing it into his arms. Brendon met his gaze, curiosity etched on his features. “Just.. hold still.” Brendon did just that, not shifting from in front of the coffee table as Harry slowly approached the pair of them. “You swear it’s.. nice?”

“Completely.” Brendon answered without hesitation. “His name’s Milo.”

“Milo..” Harry murmured quietly, though he was stopping a few paces away from Brendon who was now watching him with slight amusement.

“You can come pet him.. He won’t bite. I promise.”

“You promise?”

“Cross my heart.”

Harry’s eyes briefly flickered to Brendon and he did his best to read his expression. The CEO had no reason to lie and Harry didn’t think he was cruel enough to play a sick joke. So Harry took another cautionary step forward. Brendon extended his hand moment’s later.

“Give me your hand.”

“Hang on, I’m..” Harry shook his head, eyes fixed on the Bengal who was rubbing his head affectionately on Brendon’s jawline. It was adorable which made Harry feel even more ridiculous about the entire thing. “..working up to it.”

Brendon’s hand retreated and he didn’t say any more on the topic, clearly entertained when it came to the entire situation. After a few more seconds, Harry took another cautionary step forward and extended his own hand towards the cat whose eyes fixed on his fingers curiously. Milo then leaned forward and Harry could feel the softness of his nose as he sniffed his digits. A small, pink tongue licked at his middle finger, then his cheek was rubbing the back of his hand.

“See?” Brendon murmured quietly and he took a cautionary step towards Harry who’d taken a step back. “He’s really sweet. Much sweeter than me.”

“You can be sweet.” Harry murmured without hesitation, eyes still fixed on Milo before he was taking another step towards them. The cat’s attention had drifted back to the terrace, apparently interested in a bird that had just landed there, and Harry took another leap of faith. This time, leaning forward and running his fingers through the cat’s fur.

He was soft.

He was soft and gentle and cute, adjectives Harry never thought he’d be associating with felines.

“Why are you so scared of them?” Brendon was asking, and Harry’s eyes met his which had been watching him carefully.

Harry hesitated, fingers still combing through the fur though growing more confident as each second passed. “I just..” He trailed off for a moment, working up the courage to take another step towards them till he was close enough to catch traces of Brendon’s expensive cologne. “..had a bad experience with them growing up.”

“You had a cat?” Brendon asked, clearly wanting to know more.

“No, Gemma’s ex did.” Milo had rerouted his attention back to Harry and his eyes resembled crescents as they shut, a low purr emitting from deep in his throat. Harry could feel the gentle vibration, it was soothing. “It was this big, gray and white thing. He clearly overfed it. It wasn’t very friendly and neither was he. He’d bring it over all the time and one time..” He exhaled deeply, the memory floating to the surface, as clear as day. “..one time he told me to feed it. And when I tried..” The fingers of his free hand subconsciously ran over his neck. “..it just.. went mad. Started clawing at me, and I couldn’t get it to let go. Her ex -- just laughed. And laughed..”

He didn’t care how silly it sounded, the days that followed weren’t pleasant. The cuts were deep and as a twelve-year-old with no job, Harry didn’t have the money to get the tools necessary to prevent it from getting infected. So it had. He’d spent the following month at school eating alone at lunch, playing on his own during recess, the last chosen during PE, and during group activities.

“Well, fuck him.” Brendon murmured quietly, his tone much gentler this time around. Harry looked up from Milo and met Brendon’s gaze. “Not all cats are like that.. Especially not this one.”

Harry looked back to Milo who had rested his head on Brendon’s shoulder then was shoving the memory from his mind. “Were you working before?” He wanted to change the subject.

“Yeah.” Brendon answered, thankfully taking the signal and not pressing the matter. He placed Milo down on the table and the cat proceeded to hop off and wander towards Harry’s discarded backpack curiously. “You’ve been busy too?”

“Yeah. Finals.” Harry murmured with a nod, realizing how close they were and wanting to reach out so he could feel at the expensive material of Brendon’s button-down.. but resisting the urge.

“Did you need any help, or-?”

“No, it’s alright.” Harry was shaking his head vigorously and taking a seat on the couch. “If you have to get back to whatever you were doing, that’s fine. Just needed..”

“A quiet place to hang out?” The CEO finished his sentence once Harry had trailed off into an extending silence. When Harry didn’t confirm this, Brendon took a seat next to him. “Is everything alright at home?”

“Yeah.” He lied without hesitation, gaze wandering the room before meeting the pair next to him. Brendon had large, dark, brown eyes, they were chocolatey but the color easy to miss if you weren’t in close proximity to him. Like he was now. “I appreciate what you did Tuesday night.” He added after a moment. “Your bed was really comfortable.” It was an awkward statement but an honest one and Harry was grateful when the CEO didn’t ridicule him for it.

“Wasn’t my bed, but thanks.”

Harry was furrowing his eyebrows at the statement. “You own it though..”

Brendon held his gaze for a moment before nodding. “Yeah, but mine’s _way_ comfier.”

Harry didn’t say anything at first, unsure of whether or not Brendon had been joking. Considering it happened so little when it came to the CEO, it was difficult to tell when humor was coming into play. Another urge was nagging at him however, and Harry found himself following the whim despite their conflicting agendas for the night.

“Prove it.”

His back was hitting the comforter within that same minute, Brendon’s hands already beginning to peel Harry’s jacket from his torso as their tongues reacquainted themselves with each other’s mouths.

Harry was quickly realizing that _this_ was his favorite version of Brendon. The one filled with lust. It was _spontaneous_ and _passionate_ and he was so skilled with his lips it was beginning to become impossible to stay away. Their interrupted night Tuesday evening had proved just how badly Harry was beginning to want him, the cut-off makeout session only fueling his lust that much more. And though a quieter part of him had been wondering for a while _what_ they were, having access to this part of the CEO made it easier to ignore his needier side.

 _“Mmm..”_ The moan was coming from deep inside him once Brendon had broken the kiss to leave a trail of them down his neck. He’d marked Harry up badly the first time around, the large hickey requiring him to wear a scarf everywhere he went for the next few days, but Harry didn’t mind.

It was hard to considering those lips were quickly becoming his favorite part of Brendon’s body.

But that, of course, had to be a lie. Their night together a month ago had proved that the CEO excelled at far more than just business and verbally abusing those around him. His skills in bed were unparalleled for the college student who’d only gotten used to sleeping with people his age.

People less studied in the arts of pleasure.

The greediness was growing, the _want_ , the _need_.

Harry parted his legs even more, gyrating his hips against Brendon, the friction causing a relief that was only combatted by his increasing lust. Harry’s fingers found Brendon’s thick, luscious hair and he tugged ever so slightly so he could pull the CEO up for another kiss.

Their lips moved as if they were meant for each other, Harry’s own parting and allowing Brendon’s tongue to invade his space after every breath and catching traces of a roasty goodness he could now attribute to coffee. And as Harry’s fingers burrowed themselves deeper in Brendon’s hair, he could feel the CEO tighten his grip on his hips regardless of the fact that there was virtually no more space between them.

There they stayed.

At some point, a faint _‘meow!’_ had added itself to the quietness of the room, the only sounds being their working lips, and Harry felt the furriness of Milo brush against his leg which had wrapped itself around Brendon’s middle.

What followed was very different.

Some distance away, a faint ringing could be heard and though Harry had no trouble ignoring it, Brendon was pulling away from the kiss, eyes darting to his bedside table.

“Shit..” He was getting up in seconds, and made his way to the full body mirror at the other end of the room, gaze fixed on his hair as he smoothed it back.

“Everything okay?” Harry was asking, deeply disappointed in the interruption, glancing at where Brendon’s eyes had initially travelled -- the clock -- before flickering back to his long figure.

“I have a conference call.”

As soon as he’d completed fixing the harassed state of his hair, the twenty-seven-year-old was departing from the room.

The ending had been so abrupt that it’d taken a few moments for Harry to recover, and he was coming his fingers through his messy hair before gazing around the room. He’d only gotten a glimpse of the CEO’s master quarters and used the newfound freedom, and aloneness, to eye his style. The decoration was very modern, very few paintings decorated his walls, the furniture was as luxurious as expected.

Harry allowed his back to meet the covers once more and it was only then that he realized _just_ how comfortable the bed was. His mattress at home paled in comparison. They’d bartered for it at a thrift store and in addition to stains and holes, the springs were worn and undoubtedly rusty. Brendon’s was completely different.

It was as if he was laying on a cloud.

It seemed to mold to his body, sinking only where it deemed necessary and creating craters made just for each of his limbs. It didn’t creak as he shifted and there were no holes for his limbs to get lost in. Needless to say, that his gentle petting of Milo had slowed to a stop within minutes, and before he realized what was happening, he’d drifted off to sleep.

He was being stirred awake some time later, and as he floated back to consciousness, he registered the feeling of a gentle hand squeezing his thigh.

“Are you alive?” Brendon’s voice was asking from some distance away, and after shifting his limbs sleepily, his leg was knocking into something.

Harry’s eyes were fluttering open moments later, and he gazed sleepily around the room before they were locking on Brendon who was seated on the edge of the bed, expression amused as it always was when Harry was involved. As seconds passed, faint traces of chicken and veggies was filling his senses. It smelled delicious.

“What’s that?” He croaked, voice thick and groggy from sleep.

“What’s what?” Brendon asked, eyes wandering down Harry’s figure before meeting his gaze.

“It smells incredible.”

“Joaquim’s making dinner.”

“Who’s Wa-keen?”

“Wa- _keem_.” Brendon corrected him, enunciating clearly. His lips had pulled into the smallest smile. “He’s my chef.”

“Wa.. keem..” Harry echoed, pushing himself into a sitting position and rubbing his eyes sleepily. “F’course you have a chef..”

“I don’t have time to cook.” Brendon explained and Harry didn’t realize the CEO had still been holding on to his thigh till he was letting go and letting his hand fall to the covers.

“Your bed’s really comfy.” Harry murmured after a moment of silence, a slight smile dancing on his lips.

“How much sleep do you get a night?”

“Not enough, apparently..” The Brit murmured with a shrug. “Finals have been insane this semester.”

“You know, I have a solution for that.” Brendon began and Harry eyed him curiously. “You’d be getting way more sleep with it and everything.”

“What’s that?” Harry asked apprehensively.

“A laptop.”

“Absolutely not.” Harry shot it down without a second thought, shuffling off the bed and causing Milo to hop off and dart out of the room -- he hadn’t realized the feline had been napping with him.

“You get up _way_ earlier than you need to because you need a computer to finish your work. What if you just had one with you all the time?” Brendon watched him stand and Harry stretched sleepy limbs before shaking his head.

“It’s not necessary.”

“You’re unbelievable.”

“ _My_ method’s working. There’s no need to change it. It’s not up for discussion.” Harry was about to make his way out of the bedroom before firm fingers were wrapping around his wrist and turning him around.

“Harry, why are you so against letting me make your life easier?”

“Because you won’t always be around!” The confession had left Harry’s lips before he had time to mull it over and he met Brendon’s gaze with a steely one of his own. “You won’t and I don’t want to start relying on you. I can’t.”

“This is _laptop_ , Harry. Not a car.” Brendon was telling him, his fingers still tightly wound around his wrist. “And maybe a backpack. And, fuck, a new bike wouldn’t hurt-”

“And what about my siblings?” Harry was shooting back. “I can’t just come home one day with all these _luxuries_ while they’re still walking around with-”

“What do they need?”

“What?”

“What do they need? Tell me.”

Harry didn’t respond immediately to this, the entire thing caught him completely off guard and he was rendered speechless for a moment.

“You’re always talking about how you’re looking out for your brothers and sisters, right?” Brendon continued, verbally backing him into a corner. “So let me help you help them. Make a list, I can have Rosmerta pick those things up next time she goes shopping. Or I can take you guys myself, it honestly doesn’t matter.”

“That’s just..” Harry stammered, clearly perplexed.

“Just what?” Brendon asked, eyebrows raising, silently challenging him to shoot the offer down. “I’m sure they’re old enough to know what they need for classes these next couple years, just say..” He shrugged. “..I don’t know, Santa got it for them if you’re so concerned about it.”

Harry wasn’t sure why the gesture had taken him so off guard. It was clear Brendon had money to burn, but he never thought the generosity would extend towards his brothers and sisters.

“Should I take your silence as a yes?” Brendon asked after a few beats had passed, the smallest smirk dancing on his lips.

The thought of Brendon meeting his myriad of siblings was completely baffling to Harry who had kept both worlds so separate since October. The gesture had only fed the growing monster in his chest that wondered _what the hell_ they were.

“Don’t worry, we can wait till after your finals wrap up.” Brendon was adding as he made his way out of the room, tugging Harry lightly with him by the same wrist. His grip was loosening as they made their way to the kitchen and the smell of dinner hot off the pan had aided in silencing Harry’s protests completely.

“Sticky garlic chicken and broccoli with a side of white rice, Mister Urie.” Joaquim, the chef, was announcing as they settled into the two seats at the island.

And as the chef poured them both tall glasses of some expensive champagne, Harry took his first bite of the chicken which seemed to melt in his mouth on contact. He stole a glance at Brendon who had, apparently, been watching him eat. Normally, a surge of annoyance would’ve coursed through him, but the rich flavor had dulled any senses but the silent, overwhelming gratitude he’d felt towards the CEO just then.

He could get used to this.


	9. Father Christmas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“It’s mine?”_
> 
> _“All yours.”_

_‘..Keep right to continue on Marylebone Road..’_

Brendon’s eyes flickered from the road to glance the sat nav which he found he was beginning to rely on more heavily the farther from central London he drove. He was halfway into the forty minute trip and already battling nerves -- this development was brand new to the CEO who’d _very_ rarely felt nervous about anything, which only increased the slight anxiety as he took this exit and that.

It was the Sunday after finals had finished for Harry, and several days passed since Brendon had last seen him. The last occurrence being a brief dinner in the middle of the week in which Harry had inhaled another one of Joaquim’s exquisite dishes before disappearing to Brendon’s spare office so he could complete a project he’d been slaving over for a while.

They exchanged emails for the remainder of the week, mostly to coordinate the event Brendon was on his way currently to -- his previous promise to relieve not only Harry, but his siblings of their necessities -- which was why the CEO was currently driving into Hounslow at twelve that afternoon.

He’d also forgotten it was exactly a week before Christmas, and kept that in mind as he alerted his accountant of the noticeable dip one of his several credit cards would be taking that day. The American was pulling into the driveway at half-past twelve, the black Escalade sticking out like a sore thumb midst the shabby houses on the block that made up a portion of the inner city neighborhood, and Brendon had barely slipped out of the vehicle before an onslaught of children were making their way towards him.

Or more so -- his car.

“This is huge!”

“Bigger than a castle!”

“He’s got _money_.”

“Yo, you hiring?” A boy, looking to be in his mid-teens approached Brendon with a hand extended. His hair was extremely similar to Harry’s, messy and brunette, though it flew every which way as opposed to settling in place. His eyes were the next noticeable aspect of him, a bright hazel that seemed even brighter in the sunlight, subtle freckles peppered his complexion and his thick eyebrows lay in a tight furrow. “Max.” He introduced himself once Brendon shook his hand. “Call me Maxwell and I just might have to gut you.” He added, as if commenting on the weather. “Then rob you.”

“Max, really?” Harry had made his way down the driveway by that point, a thick folder in his grip and disapproving expression on his face. Then he was apologizing. “Sorry, he’s..”

“A delinquent.” A boy Brendon only just noticed cut in. He seemed to be a few years younger than Max and the differences between him and Harry were much more apparent. His hair was a dirty blonde, bangs nearly grown past his brunette eyebrows which framed light brown eyes. He had a calm, controlled aura to him, clearly stark different to his fellow siblings, and had he not been standing with the others, Brendon would’ve assumed he was a close friend instead.

“Fuck off.” Max shot back, though he was already climbing into the car.

“He’s a delinquent.” The same boy reiterated as if he hadn’t heard him. “I’m Matthew. Call me whatever.”

“Matty! He’s Matty! Not _Matthew!_ ” A high-pitched voice pierced the air soon after, a tiny girl looking to be primary school age shoving her way through the bodies in order to get a good look at Brendon. “And I’m Emmy! What’s your name?”

As Matty drifted into the car behind his brother, Brendon crouched so he was eye level with the girl so she’d no longer have to strain her neck. “Hi! I’m Brendon.”

Emmy stood out the most in the family, even compared to Matty. Her hair was a platinum blonde though her eyes were the exact shade of Harry’s, a bright emerald green. Big cheeks were deeply dimpled, just like Harry’s, and hair braided into a plait which extended down the middle of her back. She seemed to shy under Brendon’s gaze, eyeing him sheepishly before a question was erupting from her lips. _“Are you Hazza’s boyfriend?”_

“ _Jesus_ , Emmy. Get in, come on..” Harry scooped the girl up into his arms, his cheeks a deep crimson, and he helped her into the car before Brendon could answer.

The CEO was on the verge of commenting on this when someone else, practically the female version of Harry, was grabbing his attention. “Hi, I’m Gemma. So nice to meet you.” Her hair was the same exact shade as Harry’s, a deep brunette, though her eyes were identical to Max’s, a bright hazel that could’ve passed off as dark green or light brown depending on the light. She was sporting dimples, similarly to Harry and Emmy, and was flashing a smile that seemed to run in the family. “Sorry my siblings are a bunch of prats. I’d say they aren’t normally like this, but they are.” She raised her voice at this, as the children in the car had already begun chatting excitedly amongst themselves. “Thanks for doing all this, by the way. You’re really kind.”

“It’s not a problem. They’re not a problem.” Considering who Brendon worked with on a daily basis, rowdy children were on the easier side of the spectrum.

“Gem, where’s Ollie?” Harry had returned from the opposite side of the car, where he’d been buckling Emmy in.

“Did he not come out?”

“OLLIE!” Max’s head popped above the roof of the Escalade, hands cupping his mouth as he hollered at the top of his lungs. “OI! STOP BEING A PRAT AND-”

“Max! Seriously?” Gemma bellowed at her teenage brother who seemed to seriously consider finishing the sentence, before merely shrugging and retreating back into the vehicle.

That seemed to have done the trick, however, a child -- looking to be younger than Matty but older than Emmy -- darting out the front door, a paper in hand, expression frantic.

“Get in! You’re keeping us, buddy.” Gemma patted the brunette whose hair was shorter than the rest of his siblings, on the back. Small fingers pushed a large pair of glasses up his nose and he merely gave Brendon a glance, who registered chocolate brown eyes and light freckles, before climbing into the car.

“That’s Ollie.” Harry explained, looking flustered but accomplished at finding his siblings were all in one piece.

“I was getting my supply list!”

“It’s Christmas vacation, you fucking wanker-”

“Max, don’t talk to him like that. I swear, I’m  _seconds_ away from throttling you!” Gemma climbed into the back seat after Ollie as she chastised her brother.

Once the door was shut, Brendon was left outside with Harry who was eyeing him nervously. “I know this is a lot-”

“It’s not a lot.”

“They’re a bit..” Harry hesitated, glancing at the vehicle before meeting Brendon’s gaze once again. “..insane.”

“They’re family, right?” Brendon reassured him, a small smile dancing on his lips. “I’ve been through _much_ worse, trust me.” He said as he led Harry around to the other side of the car, though his fingers paused just as they were wrapping around the handle of the passenger side door. “Just, uh, promise to make it up to me once I have you to myself, okay?” Then he was yanking it open. “..After you.”

The entire day was worth Harry’s expression just then, and Brendon had to fight the urge to laugh.

The journey to a nearby shopping outlet had been brief in theory -- a mere fifteen minutes on the sat nav -- what unearthed in the car, however, made it feel much longer.

Gemma and Emmy had been seated directly behind Brendon and Harry, the two peering out their windows excitedly and chatting about the sights they’d see. In the far back was the remainder of the boys -- Max, Matty, and Ollie -- who proceeded to holler, chant, and argue in random succession. Max had been the instigator of most of the ruckus, riling Ollie up in seconds who’d in turn rile Matty up till Emmy was joining in the fun and Gemma yelling for them all to stop.

Needless to say, the adults were glad to finally arrive at the retail park, and as they all exited the vehicle, Brendon couldn’t help but notice how closely it resembled a clown car.

It had been a mildly entertaining day. The children were generally well-behaved once they entered the mall and the looks of utter shock and delight that shone on their faces once Brendon had effectively upended Harry’s order to go _‘one at a time, and follow the list closely’_ made enduring his subsequent glare worth it.

It was as if Brendon was Father Christmas in the children’s eyes. Seeming to never have the freedom they were given before, they were zooming from shop to shop, shoving what their hearts desired into the baskets they’d claim as their own, despite Harry’s protests and attempts at sustaining order.

They’d clearly veered away from the task at hand, soon notebooks and folders turned into video games and snacks. And at a certain point, Harry had given up trying to gain control of the situation, merely resorting to apologizing to Brendon profusely every time they were checking out of a particular store.

After several hours, Emmy was the last to be taken care of, and as they made their way home -- the Escalade feeling even more full midst all the bags in addition to the bodies -- she’d drifted off to sleep which had been the secret ingredient needed to convince the boys to stay silent, none of them cruel enough to risk waking her from her slumber.

Needless to say, Brendon had quickly become a new favorite in the household.

“Thank you again for this.”

“Enough of that.”

“I just feel bad-”

“For what?” Brendon tossed the sweater he’d been wearing all day into the hamper before meeting Harry’s gaze.

They’d arrived at his penthouse later that night, having just eaten their fill courtesy of the several boxes of pizza the CEO had ordered Harry’s family once they’d returned to Hounslow. The clock was nearing eight and the sun had been down for hours, meaning his top-floor home of the large building was illuminated with lights.

"For _this_. For _today_.” Harry had been sitting cross-legged on the edge of the bed, eyes following Brendon as the twenty-seven-year-old changed into more comfortable wear. “My family’s-”

“-Insane. Yeah, you mentioned.”

“And you spent _so_ much money-”

“Harry..”  Brendon had just shrugged on a plain white tee shirt and paused what he was doing to meet the boy’s gaze. “I honestly couldn’t tell you how much I spent today, and I _really_ don’t care.”

“But-”

“Say any more about it, and I’m throwing you out.” The CEO met his gaze with a steely one of his own. “No coat, no ride, you’ll be forced to hitchhike home.” The last part had made it clear he’d been joking, and though Harry didn’t even smile, at least he’d stopped protesting. Brendon took the opportunity to continue, “So, _I_ held _my_ end of the bargain..” He was approaching the bed, though instead of sitting on it, he was reaching underneath and pulling out a black, wide gift bag. “..Now you hold the end of yours.”

Harry watched as the CEO settled next to him, eye on the bag and expression curious yet apprehensive. “What is that?”

Brendon placed it in his lap though Harry didn’t remove the tissue paper yet. “Open it.”

“Brendon.”

“ _Open_ it.” He repeated with more force. “We didn’t get you a single thing at the mall, right? So this is your single thing.”

Harry let out a small sigh, as if bracing himself for what was to come before removing the white tissue paper. He’d reached inside and gotten a grip on the box before he was suddenly letting go, as if it turned hot. “You didn’t.”

“I did.”

“I told you-”

“Remember what you said?” Brendon cut him off. “Last week? I’m sure your siblings won’t mind.” Considering they were currently luxuriating in brand new toys of different varieties, he doubted they would.

Harry reached inside once more and finally pulled out the white box. The Apple symbol on the side didn’t require any explanation, and as he laid it flat on his lap, the crisp picture of the Macbook Pro gleamed under the bedroom lights.

For a moment, Harry didn’t say anything, fingers first feeling at the smooth material of the box as if he couldn’t believe his eyes.

“There’s more inside, you know.” Brendon teased lightly, the smallest smile dancing on his lips.

Harry didn’t comment on this, but obliged, lifting open the lid and getting his first glimpse at the silver laptop that lay within. He didn’t remove it from the box, just eyed it under the light as if afraid it would vanish in a puff of smoke were he to move.

“It’s mine?”

“All yours.”

When Harry finally looked away from the gift, meeting Brendon’s gaze, the CEO was surprised to see tears in his eyes, which seemed to make his emerald irises glisten. “Thank you.”

Something stirred inside of Brendon at this, the simple expression of gratitude tugging at him in ways very few things had before. And as Harry wrapped his arms around him, pulling the CEO into a tight embrace, his stomach flipped in an oddly pleasant manner.

He felt Harry bury his face in his shoulder which only prompted Brendon to squeeze tighter, afraid that if he let go it would interrupt what had risen between them. Harry had cried in Brendon’s arms once before, though that time, it had been due to the CEO’s tactlessness and lack of awareness.

This time however, the context being far more positive, the situation yanked at Brendon in ways he didn’t know how to deal with.

The burning behind his own eyes surprised him and he forced himself to blink rapidly in order to resist breaking down then and there. “Hey, it’s alright..” Gentle fingers combed through the brunette locks just as Harry was pulling away to meet his gaze, cheeks wet with gratitude he hadn’t been able to verbally express. “Don’t need to get your laptop all wet when you haven’t even used it..”

Then his thumbs were wiping the wetness away due to a lack of tissues. “..though if you _did_ get it wet..” Brendon continued after a moment. “..there _is_ water damage insurance, so it wouldn’t be hard to get a new one.”

And although Harry’s eyes were puffy and glistening, cheeks slightly wet and shining -- he began to laugh. It hadn’t been quick like when they’d shared the sheets together a month prior, this one had lasted longer, starting somewhere deep inside his chest and erupting from his lips as if even he hadn’t seen it coming. His long, wet eyelashes came together, eyes squinting in happiness, those dimples--craters as he clutched onto Brendon for support.

“..I wasn’t joking.” Brendon clarified after a moment, though he knew he would have watched Harry laugh all day if it were up to him.

“I know.” Harry was murmuring with a thick voice, finally settling down and meeting his gaze. He didn’t say anything after this, though Brendon didn’t bother breaking the silence -- afraid if he did, he’d interrupt whatever thought was currently making its way through Harry’s mind.

Instead of voicing whatever that had been, Harry merely reached up and cradled Brendon’s face in his hands, fingers running over the smoothness of his cheeks then briefly over his lips. A few seconds passed before he was leaning forward, and Brendon couldn’t wait, meeting him halfway in the kiss.

It tasted salty at first, Harry’s tears having effectively glossed his lips, but then he was catching traces of the pizza and cola from earlier that night as their tongues re-familiarized themselves with each other.

And he kissed him.

He kissed him like he’d never kissed anyone before in his life. He kissed him as if even letting up for a moment would be the end of all things, he kissed him hard, he kissed him soft, then he kissed him some more.

The laptop had quickly become an afterthought, Brendon placing it on the ground, and as Harry shuffled up the bed he peeled his own shirt off his torso before joining him. Their clothes were off within seconds, and by the time the uni student was spreading his legs and their torsos were making contact, he could feel Harry’s hard-on pressing against his abdomen, oozing with lust.

_Fuck._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter we *officially* officially welcomed the Styles/Dayne family which is BIG. So [here's](https://sincerelyvera.tumblr.com/h.family) a list of all his family members with ages/birthdays if you're bad at keeping track of things (like me asldkjas). x


	10. PILLOWTALK

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“Sounds super corny.”_
> 
> _“It’s true.” He could feel his cheeks warm up at this and became increasingly aware of Brendon’s arms which were still wrapped snugly around his torso._
> 
> _“I believe you.”_
> 
> _“You do?” Harry couldn’t help but eye him with disbelief. Brendon held his gaze before nodding._
> 
> _“I do.”_

_Fuck._

Harry wanted him.

He wanted him _bad_.

At that moment, being born with only two hands felt like such a crime against humanity, his fingers exploring every inch of Brendon they could despite the fact that his mind was solely fixed on the erection pressing against his inner thigh.

It was overwhelming.

Everything about Brendon had been, from the very beginning.

From his icy stares to his commanding aura to his wealth and generosity and especially his _passion_ \-- Harry had found himself in the front row seat of a ride he’d be damned to get off of any time soon.

 _“I want you.”_ He confessed, despite the fact that it had been _so_ _obvious_.

_“I need you.”_

That was a surprise.

Brendon hadn’t been particularly vocal the last time around, merely resorting to being on the giving end of the pleasure as he guided Harry to the most intense climax he’d experienced in his entire life.

But he wasn’t complaining now.

And as Brendon proceeded to leave a trail of wet kisses down the length of his torso..

He _really_ wasn’t complaining.

It could’ve been considered a kink of its own, getting off solely on having the CEO’s complete, undivided attention.

Though upon further thought, Harry realized that there were times where that _had_ been true, though the context had left him feeling ignorant and small.

As opposed to _this_.

“God..” Harry couldn’t help but moan once again.

The sight was -- simply put -- cum-worthy.

Brendon had peeled his white tee off his body, revealing the toned torso that only could’ve been earned through hours daily dedication at the gym.

And then he was leaning back down.

Ringed fingers grasped Harry’s throbbing cock and made their way up and down the length at a torturously slow speed.

Brendon’s gaze had been fixed on him, eyes seeping with amusement and something else Harry hadn’t grown accustomed to yet, but then he was leaning forward and running a moist tongue up his shaft.

His fringe was as messy as ever, a few strands of the raven quiff shielding part of the CEO’s face as he proceeded to mop off the salty pre-cum oozing from Harry’s cock before he was placing plump lips around his tip and sucking.

“ _Fuck_ , B..”

Instead of taking more of the Brit into his mouth, as Harry assumed he would, Brendon was allowing his tongue to run lower, briefly brushing over his sensitive balls and creating a sensation the twenty-year-old hadn’t experienced before.

The pleasure pulsed through his abdomen and down to his toes which curled the more Brendon licked and sucked till an involuntary shudder was rolling through Harry’s limbs.

But then he continued lower.

It was just as Harry felt the smoothness of the CEO’s tongue brush over his tight hole that his fingers, which had made themselves at home in the messy pompadour, was jerking on his hair lightly.

“Wait-”

“Hm?”

“I don’t..” Harry hesitated. Brendon had paused what he was doing though his fingers continued to work his shaft.

It was distracting.

“I haven’t.. I don’t really..” He could feel his face begin to warm up as he struggled to articulate his opposition for the CEO to go further.

Brendon seemed to catch on and thick eyebrows were knitting together in a furrow. “You’ve never gotten a rimjob?”

“Er, no..” Harry confessed, trying not to let his gaze wander back to the pair of plumps which were glazed over with spit. “Well..” Then he was actually wracking his brain. “..I _did_ once. At a party. I was completely pissed and barely remember it though-”

“Can I try?”

Harry could feel his face grow even hotter at this, fairly positive this was the first time Brendon was asking for his permission to do _anything_.

“Feel like I’d do better..” The twenty-seven-year-old was continuing. “..than some college drunk, don’t you think?”

It was difficult to argue with his logic.

Especially considering the sight of the CEO shirtless, aroused, and settled comfortably in between the Brit’s legs was practically making his dick throb.

Brendon hadn’t spoken up again, clearly not inclined to pressure Harry into it, and the patience alone and been enough for him.

“Okay.”

“Flip over? You’ll be more comfortable.”

Harry obliged, shuffling from his spot and shifting onto his stomach.

The position made him feel even more vulnerable, but he didn’t have much time to mull over the fact as Brendon’s wet tongue had made contact with his skin once again.

It was higher this time, the smoothness running over his right ass cheek and Harry couldn’t help but wonder how sultry the image must’ve been till a sharp pain -- like teeth on skin -- was coursing through the same spot.

_“Ah!”_

“Sorry.”

Brendon’s apology had been haste, though his tone sounded more amused than anything.

And before Harry could retort, the same wetness was creeping towards the dip in his ass.

He braced himself for the sensation, arms slithering under the pillow his head was settled on, and he allowed his eyes to flutter shut as he controlled his breathing.

“H, you need to relax..”

“I am relaxed.”

“You’re not.”

Strong fingers ran down his thighs before creeping back up to his ass and the CEO was squeezing gently.

“Do you trust me?”

“Yeah.”

“So trust me.”

Harry took another deep breath at this and didn’t realize the muscles in his body had been clenched till he was relaxing them.

Seconds later, Brendon was spreading his cheeks and the same wet tongue was grazing over his hole this time.

It was an odd sensation, the area had quickly grown moist, and as the moments passed, Harry began to worry for a different reason entirely.

_Was there something wrong with him?_

Instead of voicing his concern, he allowed Brendon to continue.

His tongue would wander downwards towards his balls on occasion, creating the same sensation that’d make Harry squirm, but then he’d wander back upwards again.

He repeated this motion countless amounts of times, and at some point -- Harry hadn’t even realized it -- his moans were growing more consistent.

_“Fuck..”_

He hadn’t realized strong hands were applying pressure to his ass in order to keep him still till he was struggling to move, squirming underneath the CEO’s grip.

Harry’s breathing had grown sporadic.

Though still long and deep, his exhales were frequently interrupted by moans as intense waves of pleasure coursed through him.

_“B-Brendon..”_

His voice was muffled by the pillow which he’d quickly bundled up in his grip, eyes wired shut as he struggled to comprehend whether he wanted to pull _away_ from the sensation or _towards_ it.

It was entirely brand new, as most things that involved the CEO seemed to be, and Harry had no choice but allow himself to slip further under the will of the man who seemed to be playing his body like a violin.

_“Ohmygod.. Oh, fuck..”_

Brendon’s tongue had wandered into the hole, he was sure of it, the area growing more sensitive by the second.

_“Oh, fuck.. wait-I’m gonna’ cum.. Shit..”_

The flicker of annoyance that had coursed through him when the CEO showed no signs of stopping dissipated as quickly as it came, Harry more focused on the steady climb he was taking towards the definite climax.

_“B.. oh god.. oh god..”_

Despite not having any leverage, Harry still squirmed in his spot, the pillow he’d been moaning into hot and wet as he squeezed tighter and tighter.

_“Oh god.. Oh god..”_

And tighter and-

It came in waves.

The climax similar to ones he’d receive from penetration although intense -- far more intense.

Harry wasn’t entirely sure what expletives proceeded to pour from his lips -- he wasn’t even sure if he’d made _any_ noise at all -- all he knew at the moment was the overwhelming sensation taking over his motor skills, causing him to squirm even more roughly in the covers which must’ve been a tangled mess at that point.

Then the world went quiet.

Harry’s hold on the pillow had loosened by then, fingers sinking into the sheets and he could feel his curls clinging to his temple, a single bead of sweat making its way down his jawline.

His chest was rising and falling rapidly, though gradually, his inhales had grown regular till he felt it was safe to open his eyes.

And when he did, he was eyeing a sea of buildings, the window in the CEO’s bedroom providing another stellar view of downtown London.

His arms, which resembled jelly in the moment, pushed him off his stomach, and Harry was using what little energy he had to roll onto his back.

There he was provided with another view, raven hair sent every which way, cheeks flushed undoubtedly from the work he’d just put in, eyes glazed over, and the smallest smirk dancing on his lips.

“Shut up..”

“I wasn’t gonna’ say anything.”

“You always..” A yawn interrupted the statement, Harry’s lips stretching as he inhaled dramatically. “..have something to say..”

Brendon didn’t respond to this, merely making his way off the bed.

“Where you going?” Harry hadn’t realized how _needy_ the statement had come out till it had already left his lips.

“Get up.”

“Can’t we just..” Harry realized he wasn’t the most functional person post-orgasm, but couldn’t find it in himself to care. “..lie here for a bit?”

 _Cuddle_ was what had been on the tip of his tongue, but didn’t want to press his luck.

“We can after I change these sheets.”

Harry obliged, shuffling off the bed at an alarmingly slow rate, but then he was realizing something. “What about you?”

“Hm?” Brendon had bunched up the comforter and tossed it in a corner of his room, undoubtedly leaving it for whatever housemaid would be in to clean the next day.

“Don’t you.. You didn’t even..”

“It’s alright.” The CEO muttered, disappearing into the walk-in closet for a moment before emerging with a new blanket.

Harry watched him with slight disbelief. “You didn’t even finish last time though.”

Brendon seemed to have sensed the slight hurt in the twenty-year-old’s voice and stopped what he was doing so he could approach him.

“Are you not, like..” Harry struggled to articulate himself. “..do you not find me, like, sexy? Or something?” It was difficult not to come off as horribly insecure in the moment, and he had to put extra effort in holding Brendon’s gaze now that he was directly in front of him.

“Of course I do.”

“So why won’t you get off around me?” A shameless question, but one Harry had been wondering for a while. It’d weigh on his mind during the nights he’d find himself aroused and thinking of their intimate night together. He wanted to know.

He wanted to see Brendon unravel.

Brendon’s fingers had found Harry’s shoulders and he squeezed them gently before allowing them to run down to his biceps. “You seem pretty wiped out, H.”

“I’m not.” Harry couldn’t help but shrug away the CEO’s hold, disliking how apparent the gap in both their experience and age seemed in that moment.

Brendon eyed him, hands falling to his sides, but he was stuffing them in the pocket of his jeans soon after. “Next time.”

“Why not right now?” As Harry’s gaze fell to the CEO’s jeans he realized how _naked_ he was and reached for the blanket, wrapping it around his body in an attempt to cover himself up.

“It’s just not a good time-”

“Not a good time?” He had to focus on controlling his voice, the irritation welling up inside of him. “I’m _literally_ naked, you _have_ a semi--unless it’s gone already--which honestly wouldn’t shock me-”

“Harry-”

“Just forget it.” Harry had already climbed into bed at that point and shuffled onto his side with his back to him, entirely aware of how _melodramatic_ he must’ve seemed but too stubborn to rectify things.

It’d become silent, and for a moment Harry thought Brendon had left the room. Unsure of whether that would’ve helped or annoyed him even _further_ , his thoughts were interrupted by the bed sinking slightly behind him.

What he felt next were hands, first running down his back before an arm was wrapping around his torso.

“I don’t need you to comfort me. I’m fine.”

Brendon seemed to ignore this, and Harry then registered first, a toned chest meeting his back, then warm breath ghosting his ear. The sensation sent a chill up his spine and it took everything in his power not to melt into the touch.

“I’m sorry.” Brendon’s voice was surprisingly gentle, and as tempted as Harry was to meet his gaze, he kept his eyes rigidly fixed on the view of London. “I know I can be.. confusing sometimes.”

“Sometimes?” Fully on board with the self-criticizing tone Brendon seemed to be owning up to, Harry shifted in his spot, shuffling onto his other side so he could meet the CEO’s gaze. The chocolatey brown of his irises seemed even more distinct from this degree of closeness. “All the time, more like.”

Brendon didn’t immediately respond to this, and Harry followed an urge, hand reaching up to brush a stray lock away from in front of his face, before his fingers were burying themselves into the soft, luscious hair.

“Can I ask you a question?”

“Of course.”

Harry hesitated after this, unsure of whether it was wise to go on. He knew his filter tended to vanish when sleepy, especially post-orgasm, and realized treading into vulnerable territory would undoubtedly make Brendon uncomfortable.

But then he thought of the past few months, and powered on.

“What am I to you?” He watched Brendon carefully as he asked this, waiting for the truth in his expression as opposed to his words. The twenty-seven-year-old seemed to expect this however, and didn’t break his gaze.

“You.. mean a lot to me.”

“I’m gonna’ need more than that.” Harry knew Brendon was an expert at evading questions considering it was all he’d been doing since the two met.

A moment passed where the CEO watched him, clearly thinking something over, but then he was breaking the silence once again. “I don’t.. like people.”

“You don’t like people?”

“Not like _that_.” He elaborated. “Not in the way you’re thinking.”

“So, you don’t like me?” The emotional blow had been far more devastating than Harry anticipated, though he held his ground.

“No, I mean..” For the first time ever, it seemed as if Brendon was struggling to gather his thoughts. “..I think I do. It’s never..”

“It’s never what?” Harry pressed on when he didn’t immediately continue, aware he was pushing the CEO for raw honesty -- and pushing anyway.

“It’s never happened before.” Brendon eyed him as he said this, the confession one that seemed to take great difficulty to own up to. “I’m not.. a romantic person. I never went to prom. I don’t buy people flowers. I-”

“You’ve never been in a relationship before?”

“I mean, I have.” Brendon gave a non-committal shrug as he said this. “I’ve let people run around and call me their boyfriend, but to me, it’s never really meant anything.”

“Have you ever been in love?” Harry was impressed with how far he’d managed to take things, and waited with bated breath for the CEO’s answer.

“No.”

_“Never?”_

“Never.”

It was Harry’s turn to grow quiet, though he was unsure why he was so surprised. Brendon had never come off as the affectionate type. Moments following this, he felt the softest sinking weight at the corner of the bed, and merely glanced over to see the bright orange, Bengal cat creeping towards them. Milo curiously sniffed at Harry’s damp curls before settling himself on a particularly puffed up part of the comforter some distance away and began to lick at his fur.

“Have you?” The question had pulled Harry from his thoughts, and he found himself surprised that the CEO had expressed interest.

A person was coming to mind soon after.

“Yeah.”

“Who?”

Harry attributed the casualness Brendon seemed to have when asking such a loaded question to the fact that he’d never experienced such strong feelings before.

“Her name was Lily.” Her face was swimming to the forefront of his mind, as clear as day. “We met in secondary school and dated for, like, three years.”

“ _Three_ years?” Brendon seemed to find this news extremely baffling, and Harry was furrowing his eyebrows. “Without any breakups?”

“No.”

“No cheating?”

“Jesus, B..”

“I mean..” Brendon was shrugging at this. “..that’s just a really long time. Especially during puberty.”

“Didn’t feel very long.” Harry admitted with a shrug.

“So you two were in love?”

“Yeah.”

Brendon opened his mouth, seemingly on the verge of asking another question, but then he was closing it again.

“What?”

“Hm?”

“What is it?”

The CEO deliberated for a moment, before responding. “I mean.. you were young, right?”

“Yeah..”

“So how did you know?”

“How did I know what?”

“That what that feeling was.. was love?”

Harry eyed him, silently wondering if the CEO was mocking him. When Brendon’s expression didn’t change, he answered.

“You just know.”

“That’s a bit.. vague.”

“It’s like..” Harry shuffled onto his back at this, pushing the blanket down to his waist due to growing overheated and eyed the ceiling. “..like, a _feeling_. Like..” He shifted his gaze to Brendon who was eyeing him quizzically. “..well, it’d be hard to explain to _you._ ”

“How come?”

“You’re not, like, emotionally.. _there_.”

“Try me.”

Having Brendon so interested in something that _didn’t_ involve putting him down was unnerving, but Harry persisted.

“It’s like.. everything feels complete, you know? You feel like everything’s sort of locked into place. Like..” He racked his brain, trying to remember the mindset he’d been in those few years when he called the brunette beauty his. “..like the world could end at any moment and it’d be alright, because they’re there. Them. Your person. You can’t go more than an hour without thinking about them. When they’re not around it’s like.. like a part of you’s missing along with it. It’s comfort. It’s security. It’s.. the safest you’ll ever feel in your life.”

Harry tore his gaze away from the ceiling to eye Brendon who seemed to be watching him with the same, amused expression.

“Sounds super corny.”

“It’s true.” He could feel his cheeks warm up at this and became increasingly aware of Brendon’s arms which were still wrapped snugly around his torso.

“I believe you.”

“You do?” Harry couldn’t help but eye him with disbelief. Brendon held his gaze before nodding.

“I do.”

“But you don’t think..”

“..I’ll ever experience it myself?” He completed Harry’s sentence. At this, he was shuffling onto his back as well, his now free hand running through his thick hair. “Highly doubt it.”

“Because you’re too good for anyone?”

Brendon met his gaze, amusement still on his features. “Because I don’t have the time. I’m running several empires at the moment, if you didn’t realize.”

“That’s not how love works, B.” Harry couldn’t help but scold him, amusement now in his own tone.

“It does for me.”

“We don’t get to choose who we love.”

“Whom.”

“What?”

“We don’t get to choose..” Brendon repeated Harry’s statement, meeting his gaze. “.. _whom_ we love.”

“You’re insufferable.”

Then it was happening for a second time.

Brendon was laughing.

And for the time being, Harry chose to let his underlying irritation simmer, softening noticeably and casting it aside for another day. “You should do that more often.” He murmured after a moment, continuing the momentum of honesty they seemed to be on that night. “You have a pretty smile.”

“Smiling’s for the weak.” Brendon stated matter-of-factly. “I need respect, not friends.”

“ _I’m_ your friend.” Harry shifted on his side at this, eyes running down the length of the CEO’s torso before meeting his gaze.

“That’s definitely not true..” Brendon murmured, and Harry didn’t bother masking the shock on his features. For a second time that night, Brendon was smiling. “..think it's clear you’re a bit more than that.”

Harry smiled too.


	11. Party Favour

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“I’m glad you came.”_
> 
> _“Thanks for inviting me.” Brendon murmured, watching as Harry first realized he was without a fork then resorting to lifting the slice with his bare hands and taking a shamelessly large bite out of it. “You, um..”_
> 
> _“Hm?” Emerald eyes widened inquisitively as Brendon gestured towards his face, chocolate frosting clinging to various parts of his features. Before Brendon could elaborate, Harry was taking yet another bite and this time, it was hard to control the small smile growing on his lips._
> 
> _“You’re a mess.”_

_Harry: We told everyone to get here around 6 so any time then should be fine!_

_Brendon: What is she into?_

_Harry: What do u mean?_

_Brendon: What should I get her?_

_Harry: [ message read ]_  
_[ typing.. ]_  
_[ typing.. ]  
__U can’t be serious_

_Brendon: I don’t know what girls like._

_Harry: You spent hundreds on my entire family two days ago. She doesnt need any more_

_Brendon: It’s not a problem. I’ll send Tom out._

_Harry: Get her anything and I’m chucking it out the minute u get here_

_Brendon: [ message read ]_  
_[ typing.. ]_

_Harry: I’m serious._

_Brendon: If you insist._

_Harry: Ull be here at 6?_

_Brendon: Six sharp. Are you okay on food?_

_Harry: Yes_

_Brendon: I can always have Joaquim whip something up, pot-luck style._

_Harry: Is that really how u spell his name? Whats a potluck?_

_Brendon: [ message read ]_  
_[ typing.. ]  
__Yes. I’ll explain when I see you._

_Harry: Ok. Don’t bring anything. Drive safe! x_

_Brendon: [ message read ]_

Snow was falling thick and light that Tuesday afternoon. Brendon had spent that morning working and was momentarily distracted by a notification _‘ping!’_ that was soon becoming very familiar. He’d managed to convince Harry to invest in Gmail after setting up his laptop, and upon inserting his contact information into his address book, the pair had shifted from emailing to using the instant messaging system the website provided.

The momentary distraction had turned into more.

Simply ignoring the messages the twenty-year-old would send didn’t seem to be a viable option in the CEO’s mind who, over the course of the past two days, found he was spending far longer than what was normal to complete his usual work tasks due to the ease of the messaging system.

Through this newfound means of contact, Harry had invited the CEO to his older sister, Gemma’s, birthday party. She was turning twenty-two that day and had allegedly extended the olive branch through her brother -- the CEO’s generosity undoubtedly still fresh in her mind.

The smell of fresh avocados was filling his senses as Brendon made his way to the living room, the large hand on the analog clock a few minutes past five.

“Seven layer dip, Mister Urie. Would you like the recipe?”

“Uh.. no that won’t be necessary.” Brendon had seriously considered it for a moment before deciding against it.

As Joaquim finished up the wrapping process, Brendon double-checked his gift bag, ensuring the present Hayley had dropped off earlier that morning was up to scratch. She’d picked up a pair of eighteen-karat, rose-gold earrings along with a matching necklace from Tiffany & Co. On the counter, he noticed the card she’d mentioned he needed to sign and Brendon lazily scrawled his name across the bottom along with a half-hearted _‘happy birthday!’_ before slapping the first bill he’d grabbed from his wallet -- a fifty -- right on top.

After slipping the card into the envelope, he stuffed it into the gift bag and followed Joaquim, who was cradling the large batch of seven layer dip along with an even larger bag of chips, into the elevator and out the building.

Being five days before Christmas, the traffic downtown was just as bad as expected, which was why Brendon was silently grateful for thinking of leaving early. Following the sat nav was easier this time around, and he was parking on the street of the shabby home a few minutes early.

The driveway was packed, full of beaten-down cars, and Brendon was briefly wondering how many people his sister had invited when the silent question was being answered seconds later.

He only had to knock twice before the door was being wrenched open and a burst of music surging through. It was some form of electronic pop by the sounds of it.

“Oh, hey.” Matty gave the CEO a wave before stepping aside to let him through.

“There’s food in the car-”

“I’ll get it!” Max, who was donning an obnoxious birthday hat, seemed to materialize out of nowhere and darted from the house. Brendon eyed the fifteen-year-old apprehensively as he pelted towards the Escalade, but the feeling of small fingers slipping into his hand had pulled his attention.

“Beebo!” Emmy was tugging him further inside, and upon entering the living room, the CEO had been required to evade bodies.

The demographic was mixed however most were Gemma’s age, Brendon concluded as they reached the kitchen. Decoration seemed to be strung around the house and gifts lined the dining room table.

“Brendon! Hi!” A high-pitched voice bounced off the walls and before the CEO could register what was happening, Gemma was coming at him full force, skinny arms wrapping around his neck in a tight embrace.

“Gem, geez..” Harry had shuffled from his position behind the table, party favor in hand and hat similar to Max’s slung over his head, before he was prying his sister off the CEO. “Sorry..” He apologized as Gemma slipped the gift bag from Brendon’s grip, peering in curiously. “..she’s had a bit to drink..”

“Am I late?” Brendon asked, clearly amused by the whole thing.

“No, no! You’re perfectly fine, she just.. wanted a head start, I suppose.” Harry’s cheeks had tinted slightly by then and Brendon was just admiring the crooked party hat buried in the student’s curls when a screech was filling the air.

“Bloody.. _fuckin’_.. _hell!_ ” Gemma had clearly been too impatient to wait, unearthing Brendon’s gift whilst the two were distracted. He determinedly avoided Harry’s gaze at this and could feel the daggers being sent his way. “This is..”

“.. _gorgeous?_ Holy..” Some girl, who’d been lingering by the alcohol had approached Gemma by then and took the necklace in her grip.

“That’s, um..” Harry cut in, momentarily curbing his irritation. “..Alia.”

“Oh, a friend?” Brendon asked, watching as the two girls admired the jewelry in the light.

“Gemma’s girlfriend, actually.” Harry didn’t look too pleased at this. “..for now.”

“For now?”

“How much was this?” Gemma cut in before Harry could answer Brendon’s question, and the CEO met her gaze with raised eyebrows.

“I’m not sure. Hayley picked it out.” He murmured with a shrug. “You like it then? I’m not great at gift giving-”

“You’re invited to the _rest_ of my birthdays for as long as I live..” Gemma had bunched up her hair and turned around so Alia could fasten the necklace on.

“Gem, there’s more!” She’d dug through the bag for the earrings only to pick out the card and Gemma didn’t hesitate to tear it open.

 _“Fifty?”_ Brendon had prepared himself for this one, the hug Gemma had given this time far tighter than the first. “Haz, if you don’t marry him, I will.”

“Okay, enough of that..” Harry peeled Gemma away, looking far more annoyed this time around and much less sympathetic.

“Oi, Brendon. What’s in this?” Max had entered the kitchen at that point, the large container in hand, and Emmy was following with the tortilla chips, her tiny body trembling under the weight.

“Seven-layer dip?” It had come out a question and the CEO shrugged along. “I didn’t make it. Hope it’s alright.”

Max didn’t hesitate to tear the cover off and relieved his younger sister of the burden of the chips so he could help himself to a scoop. _“Jesus-”_

In the following minutes, the kitchen had become uncomfortably full, the word on the dip reaching other ears and rousing interest around the house. At a certain point, Harry had taken Brendon by the hand and tugged him out, weaving through bodies so they could worm their way through the living area before leading the CEO upstairs.

They were entering a rather small room soon after and Harry didn’t hesitate to let out an exasperated sigh once the door was shut behind him. “I’m so sorry.. They’ve been like this all day. It’s driving me mad.”

Brendon’s eyes were wandering the room curiously as Harry said this, eyeing first the posters of various female models on the wall then the rugby equipment in the corner, and finally both twin beds on opposite sides of the room.

“Most of this is Max’s stuff.” Harry murmured, wandering further inside and taking a seat on his bed.

“Really?” Brendon asked, eyeing a poster of some woman with large busts and very little clothing lounging provocatively on a motorcycle. “Not into biker chicks then?” He gestured towards the picture and soon Harry was grinning.

“Unfortunately, no.”

“And the rugby..?”

“His too.”

“So what’s yours?” Brendon joined him on the bed, taking a seat on the edge and noting how worn the springs both felt and sounded.

Harry looked around the room before gesturing towards a tiny desk in the corner, the Macbook Pro seemed to stand out like a sore thumb compared to the shabby state of the area. “That, I suppose.”

“You suppose?”

“Max and I are supposed to share it, but he doesn’t really do his homework in general, so..”

“School isn’t his thing?”

“No, it is.” Harry met his gaze as he said this, nodding vigorously. “He just doesn’t need to study as much as I do. Comes easy to him and that.”

Brendon watched Harry for a moment and Harry watched back, but then the CEO was tearing his gaze away and looking to the wall the boy’s bed had been pushed against. “Did you draw these?” Lined from wall-to-wall looked to be sketched portraits of various people and places in the London area. What caught his eye was a particularly detailed one of Emmy, she looked to be a few years younger than she was now, eyes shut as she slumbered peacefully on the sofa.

“Yeah.. they’re not very good.” Harry shrugged, clearly abashed. “Rushed most of them. Others were for projects.”

“No, they’re good.” Brendon reassured him, meeting his gaze to show he was being earnest. Then he was asking a question that had been weighing on his mind. “How come you’re taking an art class?”

“Hm?”

“I mean, you already decided on a major, right?” Brendon reasoned. “Wouldn’t it be cheaper to get those requirements out of the way instead of taking unnecessary electives?”

The silence that followed was heavy, and Harry tore his gaze away from the CEO, sending it towards the pile of rugby gear across the room. Brendon hadn’t realized how his question had sounded till seconds were passing, and when the Brit didn’t respond, he cut in.

“You’re not bad at art, I’m not saying that in the slightest.” He was trying his best to remedy the situation. “It just seems a bit.. impractical, is all.”

“No, you’re right.” Harry’s admission had taken Brendon by surprise, having expected the twenty-year-old to respond icily back. “I just enjoy it.” He was shrugging moments later then pushing himself off the bed, fixing his shirt as he stood then gesturing towards the door. “We should probably head back.”

“Okay.” Brendon stood along with him, though before Harry could start towards the door, he was grabbing the student’s arm to stop him and meeting his gaze. “I’m not criticizing you for it, H. I was just curious.”

“I know.”

Brendon had expected Harry to hold his gaze, or at least look for a reason to close the distance between them, so when he merely flashed a small smile and led the way to the door, the CEO was couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d said something _wrong_.

“Hazza! We’re cutting the cake!” Emmy’s high-pitched voice echoed magnificently off the hallway as she darted towards them and tiny hands were grabbing one of his, determined to tug her brother as she was everyone that evening.

Brendon followed close behind, sparing the small bedroom one last glance before they were rejoining the crowd below. There they found an impressive birthday cake set on the coffee table in the living room, and Gemma settled on her knees right in front of it. At her side was Alia, hand hovering at the small of her back and eyeing the gifts with a sense of ownership that didn’t sit well with the CEO.

“There you are! C’mon, you two.” The birthday girl waved as soon as she’d spotted her brother then Alia was lighting the candles, two number twos placed in chocolate icing.

Brendon didn’t join in the singing, not one for the traditions. His eyes frequently strayed to Harry who was leaning on the back of the couch in front of him, attention on his sister as she extinguished the candles with a mighty blow.

“D’you want a slice?” Once Ollie was -- maniacally -- wielding the knife to cut the large dessert into pieces, Harry had turned to the CEO.

“No, I’m alright.”

“You don’t like cake?” Disbelief was etched on Harry’s features.

“Don’t have much of a sweet tooth.” Brendon shared, eyeing the way a lock of hair had fallen in front of Harry’s face.

“ _Suppose_ I’ll just have to have your slice then. Be back in a mo’.” And he was disappearing into the crowd.

The CEO resorted to lingering by the wall, in no way inclined to start a conversation with any of the idle bodies, his presence purely there for the college student now directing his younger brother when it came to the non-violent ways to use a knife. He hadn’t realized he’d been staring till the boy had met his gaze, and Harry’s same dimpled smile was shot his way from across the room, growing nearer now that he had a particularly large slice of cake balancing precariously on a paper plate.

“I’m glad you came.”

“Thanks for inviting me.” Brendon murmured, watching as Harry first realized he was without a fork then resorting to lifting the slice with his bare hands and taking a shamelessly large bite out of it. “You, um..”

“Hm?” Emerald eyes widened inquisitively as Brendon gestured towards his face, chocolate frosting clinging to various parts of his features. Before Brendon could elaborate, Harry was taking yet another bite and this time, it was hard to control the small smile growing on his lips.

“You’re a mess.”

Harry merely shrugged at this, cheeks stuffed with the sugary treat. After a minute, he was swallowing, then admitting soon after, “Think we forgot to buy napkins.”

“Really?” Brendon entertained, slightly relieved the student wasn’t as upset with him as he expected. “Here..” He reached forward at this, and allowed his thumb to run over the chocolate mustache the student had been working on.

Just as his hand was retreating, Harry had found his wrist, holding him there and continued to hold his gaze as rose lips took his thumb into his mouth. Harry’s tongue was smooth as it licked the digit clean, and for a moment, Brendon forgot how _full_ the living room was, instead wondering what other things the twenty-year-old could fit in there.

“All better?” Harry was asking once he’d completed the provocative job, and Brendon caught a glimpse of the same smirk that’d initially turned him off of the student two months prior.

Though this time, it yielded _very_ different results.

“You’re a great improviser..” Brendon had to put in extra effort in order to keep his voice still. “..I’ll give you that.”

“Oi! Lovebirds!” Gemma had shoved her way towards them at that point and handed them each a tiny glass. “We’re doing shots.”

“Oh, I can’t.” Brendon was telling the back of the birthday girl who’d vanished to grab more glasses. He then turned to Harry. “I drove here.”

“So?” Harry asked, eyes focused on something across the room. “Spend the night.”

“I can’t do that.” Brendon rejected the offer though it fell on deaf ears.

“Ollie, _absolutely_ not!” Harry had slipped past him, charging at the nine-year-old who’d gotten his hands on a bottle of whiskey and was bouncing off the couch cushions.

“Everyone else is drinking!”

“You’re not destroying your liver on my watch, hand it here!”

After an impressive struggle, Harry was returning, a bottle of Fireball in his grip. “Why can’t you spend the night?”

“I have work in the morning.” Brendon held his own shot glass out to Harry who didn’t make any moves to take it.

“Five days before Christmas?”

“Harry, I’m the CEO.”

Harry eyed him for a moment, clearly trying to think his way around things. However, when he couldn’t, he merely threw his head back, bringing his shot glass to his lips before setting it aside and taking Brendon’s.

“You don’t have to-” Before Brendon could cut in, the twenty-year-old was downing the second and the CEO was briefly thinking back to their first photoshoot together. If that was any indication of the student’s tolerance, he knew what he was in for.

“It’s a party, B. Just because _you’re_ being a buzzkill, doesn’t mean _I_ have to be.”

“I’m not being a buzzkill.”

“You’re gonna be the only sober one here.” Harry murmured, eyeing Gemma’s friends who’d already gotten their hands on alcohol of different varieties.

“I can keep an eye on you guys. It’s fine.”

“Or you can join in? It wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world if you just..” Harry gestured at the CEO’s person, slight frustration etched on his features. “..let _loose_ a bit. Had _fun_. When’s the last time you had any fun?”

“I don’t need to drink to have a good time.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.” Harry shot back, holding his gaze. “Seriously.” He was continuing. “When was the last time you had fun?”

Deciding to entertain Harry, Brendon proceeded to wrack his brain, filing through the very few days of leisure he had in his profession. “I golf.”

“You golf?”

“Yeah. On occasion.” Harry didn’t seem the slightest bit satisfied with this answer. “I don’t really have time for ‘fun’, H.”

“You’re free now.”

“I’m not drinking. That’s not happening-”

“But-”

“End of discussion.”

Harry didn’t bring the matter up again, and whether out of spite or merely because it was within arm’s reach, he proceeded to keep up with his older sister’s antics, accepting the beer that was handed his way and cracking open a second within the hour.

Brendon, who was in no way compelled to follow around the intoxicated twenty-year-old, lingered by his younger siblings, forced first into a lengthy conversation with Emmy who proceeded to ask him every detail about his life possible:

_Where are you from?_

_Why do you talk like that?_

_Do you have any sisters?_

_What’s your favorite color?_

_What’s your favorite food?_

_Who’s your favorite Power Ranger?_

And then Matty who seemed more intrigued with the ins and outs of his career than who Brendon was as a person. This conversation was far easier to hold, though the five-year-old hadn’t left her settled position on his lap in the living room. Her gaze was fixed on an Iron Man figurine which frequently yelled out random phrases each time she’d press the button on his chest.

It wasn’t until the small girl had dozed off in his arms that Brendon had checked his watch -- noticing it was eight at night. Matty proceeded to lead the CEO to Emmy’s bedroom and he tucked the sleeping child into her bed before taking a glance around.

“Do you all share rooms?” Brendon was asking the twelve-year-old as they proceeded back downstairs.

“Yeah.” Matty nodded, watching an intoxicated Max tell what seemed to be an extremely interesting story to a crowd of girls in the doorway that led to the dining room. “Sometimes, if Gem isn’t home, Em will come sleep with one of us though.” He added, settling himself back on the couch and pulling some sort of handheld gaming device out from under the table. “Most of the time Harry.”

At the mention of the student, Brendon’s eyes were scanning the room. The last time he glimpsed him, he’d been following his sister down a hallway over half an hour ago.

“Have you seen him?” Brendon asked Matty who’d turned the device on and was starting some game. “Harry.”

“Nah.”

Figuring that was the most he was gonna get out of the twelve-year-old, Brendon proceeded to search the house. He first found Ollie who’d climbed onto the dining table and was modelling lingerie someone had gifted his sister over his regular clothes for the crowd of drunks that’d convened in the kitchen. They howled with laughter every time the nine-year-old would pose and yelled shouts of encouragement as he tugged off a bra in an attempt to model another one.

Brendon proceeded further into the house, and had opened a door that led to a small bathroom only to find Gemma propped on the sink, legs spread, and Alia’s hand down her shorts, their tongues hungrily exploring each other’s throats. He shut the door immediately, though the pair didn’t seem to have noticed the slight interruption anyway, and the CEO did his best to remove the provocative image from his mind as he wandered back to the living room.

“..You should hear him sing!”

“Nah, nah..”

“Next Mick fuckin’ Jagger, I’m tellin’ you!”

“I’m not _that_ good..” Harry seemed to have wandered towards his brother’s crowd by the time Brendon was entering the living area. A male looking to be around the same age as the Brit trying to convince the crowd of something. He had a firm grip on the twenty-year-old’s shoulders, kneading the area as if preparing him for a big fight.

“You are, mate-”

“I’m really _not_..” The smile littering Harry’s features was one Brendon had seen before.

He was drunk.

His dimples--craters, eyes swimming across the crowd as the stranger proceeded to beat the dead horse with no mercy. His long sleeve shirt was noticeably stretched in some places and Brendon only had to take a few steps nearer to notice the tiniest hint of a bruise at the base of his neck.

Brendon definitely hadn’t created that one.

“Oi, mate. Have you heard him sing?” As Brendon approached, the stranger addressed him, though the CEO had far more important things on his mind.

“Can I talk to you?” He asked Harry who lazily met his gaze.

“Hm? Yeah, of course.”

Instead of demanding they move to another location, Brendon was grabbing the student’s wrist and leading him upstairs.

“Woah.. slow down, mate..” Harry’s words were slurred, making it that much more difficult to understand him. Brendon didn’t respond to this, merely making his way down the hall till he reached his and Max’s room, then he was entering and shutting the door behind them. “Why are you in such a hurry-?”

As soon as Brendon had let go, Harry was stumbling sideways, arms coming up to meet the wall in order to prevent his face from doing so. After stabilizing himself, the student was leaning against it, gaze wandering the room then fixing on Brendon.

“What’s up?”

 _“What’s up?”_ Brendon echoed his question, the irritation coursing through him making it difficult to stay calm. “You’re drunk.”

“I’m not drunk, I’m Harry.” The twenty-year-old shot back before bursting into a fit of giggles, but then his hands was meeting his face and he was combing his fingers through his hair. “I’m gonna’ sit down..”

Brendon didn’t respond to this, merely watching as the student slithered into his bed. The sight was rather pathetic, but any sympathy he could’ve felt in the moment effectively vanished once he spotted the bruise just above his collarbone once again.

“Why did you invite me?” The CEO asked, watching as Harry made his way onto his back. His jeans were frayed at the bottom and socks looked worn, as if they’d been run through the laundry a hundred cycles too many. “Harry.” He was repeating when the student didn’t immediately respond.

“Stop _yelling_.”

“I’m not yelling. I’m trying to have a conversation but you’re too fucking drunk to hold one, apparently.”

“Okay..” Harry’s hair was falling back as the student met his gaze. “.. _relax_.”

“Answer my question.”

“Um..” Harry’s fingers came up to his lips and he played with them for a moment before another stupid grin was plastering across his features. “..wait, what was the question?” Then he laughed. “I forgot.”

“I’m leaving.”

“Wait! No..”

Brendon had tugged the door open before Harry had hurled himself at it, effectively slamming it closed. His back pressed against it, he stretched his arms, barring the CEO’s path. “I’m sorry. I’ll pay attention this time.”

“Harry, I’m not really in the mood.”

“Mood for what?” Then another grin was creeping up his lips as he reached forward, finger drawing a line down the CEO’s torso. “..I can help with that.”

“Harry, move.”

“No.”

“I’m going home.”

“I don’t want you to-”

“So then why did you inhale half a liquor bottle?” Brendon was snapping, patience officially on its last thread. “I’m not babysitting your ass all night. You can hang out with you fucking friends. I have better things to do.”

“Like what?” Harry was shooting back, words slurred though he hadn’t moved from in front of the door. “Checking your emails? Firing some people? All you do is fucking work. It’s boring.”

“I don’t recall asking for your input.” Brendon hissed, anger bubbling over though his voice was calm. “Especially not drunk input.”

“Neither have I!” Harry raised his own considerably. “Yet you give it to me _anyway_ all the _damn_ time, so why don’t I return the favor, hm?”

Brendon hadn’t been expecting this, and eyed the student before muttering. “Fine. Go on then.”

Harry clearly hadn’t expected Brendon to add fuel to the fire either, but he was recovering quickly. “You’re _boring._ ”

“You’ve mentioned that.”

“And you’re _mean_.”

“Said that too.”

“You’re _super_ secretive.”

“Okay?”

“And you’re _selfish_.”

“I’m selfish?”

“Mhm.”

“Who paid for this entire bash?” Brendon gestured towards the door which Harry was still fixed rigidly in front of. “Cause it definitely wasn’t any of you.”

“ _God_ , and you’re _such an ass_.”

“Wow, it’s like you’re a detective or something.”

“You know..” Harry continued, ignoring the blatant sarcasm. “..I actually felt bad when you mentioned never being in love, but on second thought, it’s not so goddamn surprising.”

“Not really missing much in that department-”

“You’re gonna’ be alone, you know that?” Harry was shooting at him. “You’re gonna’ be _alone_ for the _rest_ of your life and the only _fucking_ companionship you’re ever gonna’ manage to get is with super desperate uni students who need the extra bucks to get through school. Those are the only types of people who’ll _ever_ give your _icy_ arse the time of day because they _literally_ have _no_ other options!”

At this, Brendon didn’t respond, eyes staring into emerald orbs that gazed determinedly back. The room had gone quiet, though from some distance away, Brendon could hear laughter, the crowd downstairs entertained by something else, it seemed.

“Have fun finding other options.” Brendon murmured after several beats, wrenching Harry’s arm away from the door so he could tug it open. It was fairly easy considering the student was extremely intoxicated.

“You know, I actually liked you!”

Brendon had made it halfway down the hall, the sinking in his stomach growing heavier with each step, when Harry’s voice was reaching him once again.

“I _actually_ thought I fucking _liked_ you, so I tolerated your fucking _crypticness-_ ”

“I’m sorry, Harry. I’m just not entirely sure what you were expecting.” Brendon and wheeled around to see Harry hovering in his doorway. “No, tell me. What were you expecting?” He challenged further, taking a few steps back towards the college student. “Did you expect me to fuck you once then magically fall in love? Did you think me emptying my wallet was my equivalent of holding your hand? That you’re the only pretty twenty-year-old I’ve ever been inside of? Did you expect to have me down on one knee by the end of the fucking school year? _You?_ A twenty-year-old with too-high expectations and barely enough money to pay off your rent -- let alone your _tuition_?”

Harry’s expression was enough of a sign to stop, Brendon had _wanted_ to stop, but his anger had taken the wheel.

“That’s not how the world works. I’m sorry to break it to you, but it’s better if you get this reality check now than when you’re drowning in thousands of dollars of debt -- or pounds or whatever the fuck you Brits call it here. We’re _not_ a thing. You were crushing on my wallet, not me. You loved the rich life, I get that. You enjoyed being pampered, and I had more than enough to do that for you, but that in _no_ way makes _me_ your emotional property!”

Even from here, he could see Harry’s eyes glaze over.

“Just.. like someone you’re own age, okay?” He continued after a moment, lowering his voice. “I shouldn’t have strung you along like this. We’re too.. We’re too different. You’re too young. It’s better this way.”

Another silence fell and Brendon debated saying more, but by then a single tear had already began to make its way down Harry’s cheek -- and before he had to subject himself to the blowback of his confessions, the CEO was turning, making his way down the stairs, then out into the wintery London air.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, fellow readers! 
> 
> Just a little PSA: I'm planning on starting to post chapters every other day as opposed to every day. Life's been getting busier, but I still want to deliver great, not-rushed content on a regular basis! Just not AS regular.
> 
> Thanks for understanding. xo


	12. White Christmas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“Holy..” Max had spoken first, eyes scanning underneath the evergreen. Harry noticed it seconds later, the underside had been piled high with-_
> 
> _**“Presents!”** Emmy bolted down the stairs and hurled herself at the piles of boxes decorating the tree._

It was the worst headache he’d ever had in his life.

Harry hadn’t left bed that entire day. He’d snapped at Emmy when she came charging into the room that morning, expecting a happy-go-lucky older brother only to be reduced to tears when he’d yelled at her for contributing massively to the pounding going on in his cranium. Max didn’t make any efforts to leave the room either, the fifteen-year-old had apparently engaged in a particularly rowdy came of beer pong the previous night that ended in him ingesting several pints in one go and contributing generously to his own hangover.

Gemma -- who was practically a master at drinking by then -- had taken over, making the children breakfast then bringing the boys large glasses of water along with judgmental words and steely glares.

Of course, Harry’s bad mood couldn’t be blamed entirely on the alcohol.

The heated argument he’d had with the CEO seemed to be running on replay, the same words echoing in some distant chamber of his mind. 

_We’re too different._

_You’re too young._

Harry knew he brought this upon himself. Brendon had made it clear several times where his feelings lay, though the student kept riding on the delusion that maybe _someday_ the American would look at him with the same eyes Harry had been giving him since their very first night together.

He’d fallen for a man lacking practically any emotional depth.

Harry knew he wore his heart on his sleeve, he knew when he liked, he liked _hard_ and was prepared for a day like this to come.

Just not so soon.

Under seventy-two hours ago, Brendon had admitted that they weren’t _just_ friends. He’d made such noticeable progress with the CEO, only to retract it because he’d had too much to drink. The insecurity had gone out of control.

And it hurt.

It hurt enough that when Max eventually left the room, in search of a decent meal, he’d allowed the tears to fall. 

Then they fell harder. 

Each time he felt himself calming down, he’d picture those large, brown eyes, that extremely rare smile and break down again.

His home had been beautiful.

The sex, indescribable.

Though it’d only happened twice, the feeling of those strong arms barring him in had quickly become his favorite place.

And now he’d never be able to feel them again.

And then there was the matter of the CEO’s assumption.

_You were crushing on my wallet, not me._

He couldn’t have been further from the truth.

The more Harry dwelled, the angrier he became. Till he grew so sick of the crying and overthinking that he resorted to just shutting down.

Forgetting seemed like the only option.

Forgetting the nights they spent together, forgetting the softness of his lips, forgetting those eyes, forgetting that smile.

Harry stowed the laptop away over the next few days, not having the heart to rid of it completely, but not wanting the obvious reminder of the CEO glimmering every time he entered his bedroom. 

By the time Christmas morning was rolling around, his tear-ducts seemed to have run dry, and he half-heartedly answered Emmy’s excited summons, heading downstairs expecting to find their shabby, poorly lit tree sitting forlornly in the corner of the room.

“Holy..” Max had spoken first, eyes scanning underneath the evergreen. Harry noticed it seconds later, the underside had been piled high with-

 _“Presents!”_ Emmy bolted down the stairs and hurled herself at the piles of boxes decorating the tree.

Harry scanned the living room to find Gemma leaning in the doorway of the kitchen, a cup of coffee in hand and a small smile dancing on her tired features. 

“Gem..”

The twenty-two-year-old brought her finger to her lips, silently signaling for him to ‘ _hush’_ as Emmy excitedly held up her first unwrapped gift, a dollhouse. Once the five-year-old dove back under the tree, along with her brothers, Harry was turning to her again.

“How-?”

“Those earrings.” She explained. “I pawned them.”

“The ones from..?” _Brendon_ had been on the tip of his tongue, but he couldn’t find the strength to say the name.

Gemma was nodding. “The necklace too.”

“You didn’t have to do that.”

“But I did.” Gemma linked her arm with Harry’s and dragged him towards the tree. He settled on the couch and she was placing a box on his lap seconds later. “Open it.”

Harry obeyed, tearing at the wrapping paper only to find a brand new, olive green backpack within.

“Reckon that’ll make school a bit easier, yeah?” Gemma had settled on the cushion next to his before gesturing at it. “Look inside.”

Harry unzipped it and stuck his hand in, only to pull out a black, laptop bag from within. “Gem..”

“You’re welcome.”

“I didn’t get you anything.”

"You got _us_ this.” She gestured towards her siblings who were still excitedly tearing open their gifts, Ollie already shooting away with a Nerf gun he was bound to upgrade into something more violent the minute he’d get the chance. “Why not invite Brendon over?” She asked after Harry had set the bags aside. “I didn’t see him leave the party Tuesday.”

“No, he’s.. busy.” Harry hadn’t shared the argument with his family members yet, unsure of how they’d react to the fact that he’d essentially cut ties with their main source of joy the past month and a half. 

“On Christmas?” She was asking, though her eyes were fixed on Matty who was sifting through his brand-new Backgammon set.

“Yeah. Maybe another time.”

_Or never._

The children had spent the day playing with their gifts, Ollie had managed to break, assemble, break again, then re-assemble his Nerf gun, though now it was shooting a hardened version of Emmy’s play-doh as opposed to the soft bullets provided. 

The weather had only gotten worse over time, the snow falling thick and heavy, and by the time the smell of Gemma’s familiar chili concoction was wafting through the house, several inches had blanketed the roads.

“Oi! Brats!”

At the sound of their older sister’s voice, everyone had pelted to the kitchen, choosing their favorite seats at the table, or otherwise arguing with those who’d claimed those chairs as their own. Gemma had just finished doling out chili and placed a tall plate of cornbread at the center of the table when a knock was heard at the front door.

“That’s probably Alia.”

The twenty-two-year-old had been peering out the front window ever since noon that day, expecting her girlfriend who’d promised her presence -- along with gifts. Gemma was flying to the door in seconds, and Harry had already gotten started on shoving a particularly large piece of cornbread between his lips when Gemma was re-entering the kitchen.

“Haz.”

“Wha-?” He murmured, mouth-full. Emmy made a disgusted noise at his lack of manners before dissolving into a fit of giggles.

“It’s for you.”

Perplexed, Harry pushed himself out of his seat and made his way to the living room. He’d been surprised when Gemma had gone the opposite way, taking her seat at the kitchen table, but then was freezing in his path once he’d noticed who was at the entryway. 

Brendon.

His hair was damp, large snowflakes melting on contact and from the heat coursing through the house. A navy peacoat was wrapped snugly around his person and he was clutching an impressively sized and wrapped box.

For a moment, neither of them spoke. 

But then Brendon was breaking the silence. “Hi.”

“What do you want?” Harry hadn’t intended for it to come out so cold -- or maybe he had, he wasn’t sure. The CEO’s presence alone had done enough to leave him visibly shaken. 

“I came to apologize.”

At this, Harry was charging in his direction, though instead of pausing in front of him, he was making his way to the front door which he wrenched open, getting a burst of wintry air and letting in a gust of snow. “I’d like you to leave.”

“Harry-”

_“Get out.”_

Brendon eyed him for a moment, his gaze briefly flickered to the blizzard outside before his mouth was opening once again.

“I don’t want to hear it.” Harry snapped before he could get a word out. “Whatever bullshite excuse you have, I don’t need to know. You made your point.” He’d done well, though his voice had shaken at the end, the memory of their last encounter still fresh in his mind.

And his heart.

“Harry, please.”

“Get out, or I’m gonna’ throw you out.” He hissed, doing his best to shut out _that_ voice Brendon was donning. The _gentle_ and _caring_ and _remorseful_ one that always made him weak in the knees.

Brendon hadn’t tried speaking up again, and Harry got a whiff of that same, very familiar cologne as the CEO crossed the threshold that led outside. Harry had been in the midst of closing the door when Brendon was speaking up again. “At least take this?”

At that, Harry was pausing, gaze falling to the box in Brendon’s hands.

“It’s not money.” He added, those same, large eyes staring earnestly into his.

At this, Harry’s curiosity was growing, and he reached out to grab the carefully wrapped gift from his grip. “Tell Hayley I said thanks.” Was what he murmured, assuming the assistant had everything to do with what lay within.

“Hayley didn’t pick it out.” Brendon told him, taking the chance to engage in conversation by the reigns. “I did.”

At this, Harry was eyeing him suspiciously.

“And..” Brendon continued. “..it’d probably make more sense if I was here when you opened it. Part of it requires a bit of an explanation.”

“Think I can figure it out for myself, thanks.”

“No, Harry.” Brendon muttered gently. “I don’t think you will. It’s.. vague.”

Harry’s eyes flickered from the box to Brendon who’d shoved his hands inside the pockets of his coat. He secretly relished in both the physical and emotional discomfort the CEO was in, which made obliging much easier.

“Fine.” He first tugged at the ribbon, not bothering to invite Brendon back inside, then tore at the wrapping paper. Holding the box with one hand made him aware of how heavy it was and Harry resorted to placing it on the table in the entryway instead so he could lift the lid and peer inside.

First thing he registered was a sea of color. 

Red and blue and orange and yellow and purple and green and black, hitting his eyes at the same time. Upon further inspection, he realized they were paints and crayons and pencils and brushes and underneath..

An easel. 

“There’s a card too.” From just outside the doorway, Brendon spoke, and Harry glanced at him only to follow his gaze downwards to the floor where the envelope he must’ve unknowingly dropped lay.

Harry lifted it, the paper a bit wet from the snow that’d blown in, and pulled out the card.

On the front was an illustration of Santa and his reindeer, and when he opened the card, the only thing that laid within was -- not money -- but a slip of paper. Scrawled across it in what he could only assume was Brendon’s handwriting: was an address, a date and a time.

“What is this..?” Harry was finally breaking the silence, eyebrows knit in a tight furrow as he pulled out the paper to get a closer look.

“It’s the location and date for your first meeting.” Brendon answered, his nose was a rosy pink, cheeks flushed from the cold, but he wasn’t complaining. “For your art class.”

At this, Harry only grew more confused, luckily, Brendon was soon elaborating.

“There’s an art studio a few blocks away from the Imperial College. Every Wednesday night they hold art classes for people who are fairly.. _adept_ but don’t have any formal training.” As Brendon explained, Harry’s stomach did a violent flip. “They also have pottery classes if you’re into ceramics.. I wasn’t sure how far your interests extended, so I got you the annual membership.”

Harry’s eyes flickered back to the slip of paper, re-reading the information.

“All you have to do is show them your ID when you head in and-”

“Why did you do this?” He’d finally found the strength to speak, though his voice was thick. He blinked away the burning behind his eyes.

He _wasn’t_ going to cry.

“I..” Brendon trailed off for a moment, clearly weighing his words. “You’re really good at it. Art. And I feel bad for discouraging you a few days ago.. If I came off that way.”

When Harry didn’t immediately respond, Brendon was continuing.

“Harry.. I was pissed Tuesday. I was _super_ pissed. It wasn’t right for me to shame you for wanting to drink, I mean, you’re young -- and I’m not trying to be condescending when I say this, I just..” He trailed off again, clearly struggling to gather his thoughts. It was the first time Harry had ever seen the CEO struggle with _anything_ which was why he allowed him to continue. “..I didn’t really _party_ growing up. My college days were spent studying and when I wasn’t studying I was shadowing my dad and when I wasn’t shadowing my dad, I was working on my startup. I.. I _don’t know_ how to loosen up. The only times I’ve gotten drunk I’ve been alone and that was mostly to cope with all the damn pressure I was under all the time.”

It was overwhelming even for Harry, how much Brendon was admitting.

“Yes, I grew up wealthy and yes, I’ve been handed practically everything since the second I was born, but the one thing I never got was love.” Brendon met his gaze as he said this. “It sounds super corny and so cliche, but my parents only told me they loved me when I had a trophy or medal or diploma in my hand. They didn’t comfort me when I had nightmares or hold me through anxiety attacks, they sent the nanny my way when I’d scrape up my knee and I spent most weekends trying to constantly be _more_ like my dad. I don’t _know how_ to.. to open up. I don’t cuddle. I don’t hug. I don’t kiss unless it’s leading to sex and I’ve _never_ spent this much time around someone in my free time.. Not unless Hayley counts, which I doubt she would..”

“Brendon.” He finally cut in after this and the CEO fell silent.

Brendon was shivering now, but Harry wasn’t entirely sure it was from the cold.

“Come in.”

The CEO didn’t have to be told twice. He was immediately crossing the threshold and Harry shut the door behind him.

“I don’t regret it.” To his surprise, Brendon continued speaking, though his voice was lowered. The Brit met his gaze again. “These past two months. I don’t regret them.” He was so close Harry could make out the chocolatey brown flecks in his irises. They were warmer. “And I’m sorry-”

Harry had cut him off then, fingers finding the back of his neck so he could lean in for a kiss.

And Brendon kissed him back.

As per usual, he tasted like coffee. There was a hint of mint in there, resembling a candy cane, and cold droplets from melted snow in Brendon’s hair sprinkled Harry’s forehead as their lips moved as one. Harry’s fingers tangled themselves in the CEO’s damp locks and those same strong arms wrapped around his torso, only to pull him closer. 

Harry could feel his socks getting wet from Brendon’s snowy, leather boots though he couldn’t bring himself to care. All he knew was that there was still too much distance between them, despite the fact that Brendon was holding him so close he was just barely leaving the ground.

_"Yuck!”_

He’d pulled away from the heated kiss only to find a bundle of platinum blonde hair and bright green eyes peering at them from the recliner in the living room.

“Emmy, _go_ back to the kitchen!” Harry scolded the five-year-old who was shuffling from the seat and giggling madly.

 _“Brendon and Harry sitting in a tree..!”_ She’d started belting at the top of her lungs, voice magnified from the acoustics of the kitchen once she’d retreated.

_“F-U-C-K-I-N-G!”_

The voice, undoubtedly Ollie’s, was getting scolded seconds later by Gemma, and the howl of laughter that broke out had to have been Max’s and Matty’s. 

“Sorry to interrupt.” At Brendon’s words, Harry tore his attention away from the door to the kitchen, and he met the CEO’s gaze. “I tried messaging you these past few days..”

“Haven’t really been using the laptop.” Harry explained, fingers drifting from his hair to fidget with the buttons on Brendon’s shoulders. He remembered his manners moments later. “D’you want to stay?” He was asking. “Gem’s made her chili and we’ve got cornbread.. If you like that.”

“Sure.”

Harry hadn’t expected Brendon to agree, so it took him a moment to recover before he was nodding and loosening his hold on him completely. “I can take your coat then.”

Dinner had been a rowdy affair. Emmy had proceeded to learn Ollie’s crude version of the song she’d been humming and they spent a generous amount of time trying to explain in as little detail as possible why it wasn’t a version worth singing.

Then they’d gathered in the living room to carry out a tradition the children had created years ago, putting on _How the Grinch Stole Christmas_ and enjoying both Max’s and Ollie’s crude commentary of the innocent plot.

This had been a particularly pleasant part of the night to Harry who’d settled into Brendon’s side as the CEO was lounged at the end of the couch. The feeling of long fingers running through his curls would’ve lulled the student to sleep had he not been so determined to stay awake, not wanting to cut the night short.

“What are you doing these next few days?” Harry murmured in a low voice. The movie had concluded and a tired Max was carrying a sleeping Emmy upstairs, the rest of the siblings following suit aside from Gemma who’d drifted to the kitchen in another attempt to call Alia on the family phone. They had been lingering at the same entryway by the door.

“I’m heading out of town.” Brendon muttered back, he’d scooted nearer in order to hear each other better, the closeness, something Harry couldn’t complain about.

The news, however.. “Back to America?” He did his best to keep the disappointment out of his voice.

“Auckland.”

_“New Zealand?”_

“Contract negotiation.” Brendon elaborated, hands finding his pockets.

“For how long?” Harry asked, doing his best to sound objective on the matter.

“A few days? Maybe a week. Depends on how smoothly things go.”

The first place Harry’s mind went was to New Year’s, and while they hadn’t discussed it in the _slightest_ he couldn’t help but feel the slightest bit of dread at not having a kiss that year. “When’s your flight?” He asked, silently resigning to the fact.

“Tomorrow. Not till later at night though, I’m supposed-”

“Are you headed home right now?” 

Brendon seemed surprised at the haste Harry had asked this, but was recovering quickly. “Yeah.”

“Can I join you?” Harry eyed him, silently hoping a _‘well’_ or _‘it’s just’_ wouldn’t follow.

“Of course.”


	13. The Emerald Isle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“Harry.. you’re crying?”_
> 
> _“I’m not crying.”_
> 
> _“You are.”_
> 
> _**“Shut it.”**_

The sun was up.

Though there was still considerable cloud cover -- it made sense for London that time of year -- his view of the student had gotten clearer. It was easier to make out the pastel pink of his lips, the length of his brown eyelashes, and the miniscule, leaf-shaped birthmark just above the right side of his clavicle.

Brendon had been conscious for a while. The CEO hadn’t gotten a full eight hours of sleep since before his college years, which meant he generally was the first to wake up and the last to go to bed. It was no different that morning, he’d stirred after Harry had shifted sleeping positions, wrapping his arms around the CEO’s torso as he subconsciously scooted closer, as if they hadn’t been in extremely close proximity that entire night.

Harry was a cuddler.

Brendon had learned this the last time Harry had spent the night. Prior to that, the boy had taken refuge in the guest bedroom, due to his adversity towards Milo. But ever since he’d grown comfortable with the bright ginger Bengal cat, he’d joined Brendon in bed.

It had been irritating at first, the twenty-year-old’s constant shifting. Brendon had been forced to wedge a particularly puffy pillow between them, unaccustomed to having a hot body pressed against his for more than a few minutes, but that morning things were different.

Perhaps it had been a new development from the previous evening, which had been an emotional rollercoaster of its own. Perhaps it was due to the fact that later that very night he’d be on a plane heading to the Southern Hemisphere for an indefinite amount of time, but this time around the businessman found he didn’t mind the closeness.

It wasn’t lasting long, however. Brendon had a very specific morning routine that he wasn’t planning on changing any time soon, regardless of the student’s endearing sleeping habits. After slithering out of his steely grip, he’d dressed, only to head down to the building’s gym. Given it was the day after Christmas, his personal trainer was taking the morning off, which meant the CEO was enforcing his own workout routine.

He’d spent forty-five minutes on the treadmill, lifted for another twenty, leg curls for five, and crunches for ten -- perhaps even longer considering he’d left his phone upstairs. 

Upon returning to the penthouse some time later, he found Harry still under the covers, though this time awake and doting on the ginger Bengal who’d joined him in bed due to the CEO’s absence.

“You’re so healthy.” Harry broke the silence, eyes following Brendon who’d begun to undress. “You work out _every_ day?”

“Every day.”

The shower was brief, Brendon wasn’t the type to linger, and when emerging ten minutes later, he found Harry -- still settled comfortably.

“What would you like for breakfast?” The twenty-seven-year-old asked as he slipped the towel off his waist and dried his wet locks. He was digging for briefs when Harry had answered.

“You’d do.” 

Brendon emerged from the walk-in closet, a small smile dancing on his lips due to the shameless statement. “Not up for grabs, unfortunately.”

Harry’s hand melodramatically met his chest at this, though he was grinning. “You can order something, it’s fine.”

“Eggs?”

“Sure.”

After slipping into joggers and a shirt, he took a seat on the edge of the bed and searched for the number responsible for room service. As he was locating it, he felt gentle arms worm their way around his torso, a chin soon following on his shoulder, and light breathing ghosting his ear.

The phone call had been brief, Brendon adding on a few things, assuming Harry wouldn’t mind, and by the time he was hanging up the student was tugging him down. “H..”

“Hm?” Harry seemed to feign ignorance, continuing to pull at Brendon till his back was meeting the sheets.

“I have to prep for this negotiation-”

“Right now? Really?” Harry cut him off, and sleepy emerald eyes met his as the boy slung a leg over his body, going into a straddle.

“Yes, right now.”

“You _just_ woke up.”

“I’ve been awake for hours.”

Harry didn’t respond to this, his fingers already beginning the task of tucking under the hem of Brendon’s shirt and creeping up his chest. “You’re very.. touchy today.” 

“M’always touchy..” Brunette locks brushed Brendon’s forehead as Harry leaned forward, then their lips were meeting in a gentle kiss.

Feeling it would be rude to decline this advance -- and probably for more selfish reasons -- Brendon reciprocated, lips working against Harry’s till the student had begun noticeably deepening the kiss. “Harry-”

He only leaned in more.

“H.. Hey-”

“Can’t we just snog for a bit?” Irises as green and vibrant as a forest in the middle of June glimmered as he just barely allowed space between their lips. It was a bit unnerving how _bright_ they were. “I like kissing you.”

_I like kissing you._

Though it had been months, Brendon still hadn’t grown quite used to the student’s stark honesty, and though he _did_ have a considerable amount of prep to get through -- even with the long flight ahead -- he found himself reaching forward to brush fingers against a dimpled cheek before finding the base of his neck and pulling him back down to reconnect their lips.

He’d get to it later.

The next few hours seemed to float by pleasantly, breakfast arriving just when what was _supposed_ to be an innocent makeout session had become much more. And Brendon was forced to tug his discarded tee shirt on in haste in order to _not_ keep room service waiting. 

Following breakfast, the CEO had _insisted_ on needing to work, even compromising and bringing his laptop to the living room, though he found his eyes wandering towards Harry’s lean figure often -- the student had bundled up in all of Brendon’s warmest, wandering to the balcony in order to watch the hustle and bustle below with the same innocent curiosity that’d drawn the businessman towards him in the first place.

“Where did you say you’re from again?”

“New Jersey.”

“New.. Jersey..” Harry murmured quietly, gaze sent upwards as he eyed whatever was currently fascinating him on the ceiling. “That’s where you were born?”

“No.”

“Where were you born?”

“New York.” Brendon muttered distractedly as he re-read over a clause, a small section of words in a sea of tiny print on his laptop. “Oyster Bay.” 

The CEO had finally gotten himself to concentrate that afternoon. Harry had wandered in from his people watching some time ago and after raiding the CEO’s fridge and fiddling adorably with the Keurig as he attempted to make a cup of tea -- _‘it’s so.. complicated’_ \-- he’d settled himself on the couch alongside Brendon, laying down and legs finding their way onto the businessman’s lap before he’d drifted off into a mini-coma, undoubtedly inspired by his recent food binge. He’d eventually stirred, sleepiness keeping him silent and giving Brendon some extra time to work, uninterrupted. 

“Oyster Bay? Like.. a beach?” 

Then came the questions.

Brendon shifted his laptop slightly, the glare coming from outside making it slightly difficult to eye the screen. The device was balanced precariously on the student’s legs who’d refused to move from his settled position, and had Harry not looked absolutely immaculate under the harsh lighting from the snowy outdoors washing in, he would’ve demanded the twenty-year-old give him some _space_.

“Sort of.” He reached the next clause before Harry was breaking the silence once again.

“How many siblings d’you have?”

It was no doubt Emmy was Harry’s sibling. Their curiosity truly unparalleled. “Two.” And before Harry could demand more, he was expanding. “An older brother named Isaac and a younger sister named Charlotte -- or Lottie, we call her.” Harry was shifting suddenly just as Brendon had said this, and he was forced to lift his laptop at risk of it being knocked to the floor.

“I have a cousin named Lottie..” The twenty-year-old shared for some odd reason, then growing tired of the position, he shifted instead so he could rest his head on Brendon’s shoulder. The bedhead was impressive, and the CEO had to shift the brunette curls which were flying every-which-way so he could retain the clear view he had of his laptop screen. “How old are they?”

“H..” Brendon kept his voice as gentle as possible. “You’re making it really hard to work right now.”

“When else am I gonna get to know you?” He lifted his head, hitting Brendon with his flyaway locks as a result, though when the CEO met his gaze, the slight irritation was melting away. “You’re _leaving_.”

“Not forever, you know. I _do_ live here.” Brendon couldn’t help but tease, eyes wandering the student’s handsome features.

Harry seemed to consider this for a moment before powering on. “I know, I just..” He trailed off for a moment, legs crossing on the couch as he shifted his position for what seemed like the hundredth time. After a shower earlier, he’d tugged on a pair of Brendon’s joggers which was _slightly_ too big for him, and was donning a pair of fuzzy socks he’d brought from home, the holiday-themed green and red reflecting off the natural light. “..It’s been on my mind.”

“Can you curb these questions for a bit?” Brendon reasoned, not annoyed in the slightest, merely unaccustomed to distractions in _general_.

“Can I ask just one more?”

“Sure.”

Harry eyed him after this, arm finding the back of the couch as restless fingers combed through Brendon’s soft locks. This aspect of Harry’s restlessness, the CEO found he didn’t mind. It was calming in a sense, the steady running of Harry’s fingers on his scalp.

“What were those photos for?”

His stomach dropped.

That question was one Brendon hadn’t anticipated coming up, their last photoshoot dating back to late November which -- after some thought -- had been over a _month_ ago.

“Is it some side business, or..” Harry pressed, though his eyes were wandering Brendon’s figure, first running down his body before lingering at his hair, which he was still playing with. “Promise I won’t get mad or anything.” He added for a moment. “You clearly didn’t care for them, yeah? Didn’t get that impression.. Just some mates of yours then? Or?”

A silence settled.

Brendon had appreciated Harry’s rambling, the extra few seconds needed when gathering thoughts which seemed to be zooming every which way just about then. But then the silence was stretching _too_ thin and he noticed the furrow on the Brit’s features tighten.

He had to come up with something.

“It’s..” Brendon trailed off for a moment, gathering what thoughts he could. “..just some.. Like a side business, like you said.”

“What side business?”

Brendon was sure if he hadn’t taken so long to answer initially, Harry would’ve taken the lackluster response without question.

“Is it bad?” Harry was shifting in his seat, and Brendon didn’t enjoy how intense his gaze had grown over the matter of seconds. “Were you selling it to people? Who?”

“H, it’s not..” Brendon shut the laptop at this, placing the device on the table. “I know a few people in Seoul who wanted some.. _provocative_ photos for whatever reason.”

“For what reason?” Harry pressed, his fingers had stopped by then, hand instead dropping to fidget with a loose string on his joggers. “Tell me.”

_Shit._

“It’s just-”

“Don’t sugar coat it.” Harry pressed, eyes searching Brendon’s for the truth. They were softening moments later. “B, I know what I signed up for.. Sort of. Who’s the audience? I won’t be mad. I promise.”

Brendon watched him for a moment before resigning to the fact that he _wouldn’t_ be able to lie himself out of this one. “I’m not entirely sure.”

“You’re not sure?”

“I have a few contacts in Seoul who I’ve known through the years and one of them..” He hesitated before powering on. “..one of them mentioned how there’s a more.. _underground_ sex community in certain parts of the country -- since they’re so traditional and rigid there, you know? And so he mentioned how foreigners of the _male_ variety are becoming increasingly higher in demand over there.. He knows a guy who sort of doles them out on a certain website-”

“Pornhub.” Harry had been watching him throughout, expression abnormally rigid for how expressive of a person he was on a day-to-day basis.

“Their version of a Pornhub, I guess. Yeah.”

The silence that followed was thick.

Harry was clearly absorbing it all. Brendon had been watching him closely, waiting for the moment the stony expression would crack and the yelling would ensue. It wasn’t the student’s anger that made the CEO nervous, it was whether or not he could talk the irritation _down_ that mattered. The quiet seemed to stretch on for hours, but then, Harry was speaking.

“Okay.”

At this, Brendon’s own eyebrows knitted together in a furrow, expecting far more. “Okay?”

“I mean..” Harry continued, fingers now fidgeting with the hem of his shirt. “..it’s just in South Korea, yeah?”

“Fairly positive.”

“You’re _fairly positive_?”

“I don’t see any reason..” Brendon was quick to cut in. “..that they’d distribute it further. They’re very, _very_ protective of their values down there. This is, like, dark web stuff.”

This seemed to ease Harry’s anxiety, the student finally breaking the eye contact and gazing around the room. “Can we just..”

“Hm?”

“Next time.” Harry eyed Brendon once again. “Can I just, like, sort your files or something?”

“What do you mean?” The request was unexpected, Brendon’s curiosity peaking.

“Like..” Harry struggled to elaborate for whatever reason. “Like for _work_. Can I just-”

“Why would you need to work?” Brendon didn’t mean to interrupt, but couldn’t resist. His hand found the back of this couch and fingers buried themselves in the student’s curls. “All you have to do is ask-”

“I’m not just gonna _take_ your money, B.”

“Why not?”

Harry scoffed at this, clearly taken off guard at Brendon’s causality. “I’d rather work for it. It’d make me feel better.”

“But I don’t need you.” Brendon tried his best to reason with him. “I have countless assistants. It’d be a bit of a waste, H.” He shrugged as he said this. “It wouldn’t be a problem to help you out though. What do you need? Is your next semester covered? I can-”

“Brendon..” Harry cut him off, clearly overwhelmed. “You’ve been generous already, I’m not just going to let you.. _throw_ money at me.” 

“I wouldn’t throw it, H. I’d hand it over.” Brendon knew the joke was untimely and the glare the student shot his way verified this. He pressed on. “You always fight it-”

“Because that’s not me!” Harry shot at him. Brendon was aware the twenty-year-old was heated, though at the moment what caught the majority of his attention was a particularly stubborn curl dancing between furrowed eyebrows and the blazing emerald of his eyes. “I’ve _told_ you this a _hundred_ times..” Harry had pushed himself out of his seat, his accent thickening the more worked up he became, and the student paced the living room. “..I can’t just take _hand-outs_..”

“Okay, okay.” Brendon gave in, intentionally allowing the Brit to go on for a little longer than normal merely because the situation amused him. He followed suit, easing himself out of his settled position and meeting Harry in front of the flat-screen tv he rarely used. 

“I’m not just _taking_ your money.”

“I know.”

“I can.. mow your lawn or something.”

“Probably would need to get one first..”

“Right.” Harry’s eyes found the ceiling as the realization dawned on him and Brendon couldn’t resist the grin growing on his own features.

“How about..” He reached out, finding the student’s shoulders and giving them a gentle squeeze. He could feel Harry relaxing under his touch which was a reassuring sign. “..you..” Another moment paused as he wracked his brain. “..organize my office?”

“Your office?” Harry held his gaze after this, vibrant eyes searching brown. “Brendon, it’s spotless.”

“Is it?” Brendon hadn’t realized this, though upon further thought, knew he didn’t enjoy working in a messy environment. “I can mess it up a bit-”

“B-”

“Harry, you’re asking a person who’s never needed anything in his _life_ to come up with work out of nowhere. It’s a bit unfair. I’m totally unqualified for this.”

“You _have_ asked for somethin’.” Harry retorted, accent thick as he held his gaze.

Brendon eyed him curiously. “Have I?”

 _“Yesterday..”_ Brendon’s grip on the student’s shoulders were relaxing as Harry took a step towards him, lips curling into a small smile.

“Okay, well.” Brendon rolled his eyes at this, the memory of his incredibly vulnerable and _extremely_ uncomfortable apology floating unwillingly to the forefront of his mind. “Aside from then.”

 _“Aside from then.”_ Harry echoed the statement in a poor imitation of an American accent, the familiar shameless grin growing even wider on his soft features. He was directly in front of Brendon by then, and the CEO had loosened his hold on the student only to have Harry take his hands in his. “Why d’you do that?”

“What?” Brendon was asking, resisting the tempting urge to slip his hands out of Harry’s steely grip.

“You like..” Harry’s vibrant eyes were flickering between both of Brendon’s and he had to fight to hold his gaze. “..close off whenever things get, like.. _intimate_.”

At this, Brendon was tearing his eyes away from Harry’s, shrugging as his gaze wandered to the terrace in his view.

“You’re doing it right now.”

Brendon’s eyes flickered back to the pair of foresty green, which hadn’t left him. “Am I?”

“You are.” Harry seemed fascinated by this, which only caused a surge of annoyance to course through him. The feeling was melting away as the twenty-year-old reached up, fingers of both hands tenderly brushing over his cheeks. “Am I hard on the eyes?”

“Of course not.” Brendon retorted, holding his gaze at his.

“So then..” Those same fingers were running down the sides of his neck and Brendon couldn’t ignore the chill that ran up his spine as a result. He’d been watching Harry, expecting there to be more to the sentence, but when the student had merely leaned forward, erasing the distance between them for a kiss, it took him a moment to catch up.

He caught traces of tea on Harry’s lips, the hot beverage from earlier undoubtedly still lingering, and he found himself leaning in for more. His arms had wormed their way around the Brit’s lean figure and he’d just begun pulling him closer when the twenty-year-old was breaking the kiss, the smallest trace of a smile on his lips, those dimples Brendon was growing more and more fond of peeking through.

After considerable silence, the CEO was breaking it. “What?”

“Nothing.” Harry murmured, eyes flickering from him lips to his eyes once again. Brendon had leaned in to continue the kiss, but Harry was evading it moments later.

“Is it the coffee? I’ve been sipping on it all day.”

“No, it’s not..” For some reason, Harry was now laughing, crow’s feet accenting squinted eyes as the Brit’s giggles bubbled over.

Brendon was entirely lost. “Mind sharing the joke?”

“I’m not laughing _at_ you.” Harry’s arms were slinging around his neck at this and he was leaning forward ever so slightly for another peck. “You’re funny.”

“You’re strange.”

“You’ve never just..” Harry continued, choosing to ignore the comment and nose brushing against Brendon’s as he held his gaze. “..hung out with someone before?”

At this, Brendon was shaking his head. “Don’t really have the-”

“Time.” Harry completed the sentence before the CEO got a chance -- and to his own surprise, the businessman couldn’t resist the grin growing at his lips.

“I’m getting a bit predictable, aren’t I?”

“You are.” Harry agreed, a dimpled smile mirroring his own. “But I like it.”

Before he knew it, eight o’clock was rolling around, and Brendon was putting the finishing touches to his luggage. He’d merely packed a suitcase, entirely prepared to pick up custom suits there, and was checking his toiletries when Harry was breaking the silence.

“D’you _have_ to go?” The student had settled himself on the bed, legs crossed so Milo could make a home in his lap. The Bengal cat was sniffing at a particularly hideous sweater Harry had tugged on over the course of the evening and Brendon chose not to comment on this, unsure whether or not the article of clothing was sentimental or merely _affordable_.

“Unfortunately, I do.” Brendon murmured, eyes fixed on cologne as he tried to narrow down from the four he’d placed in the luggage. The suitcase was set on the edge of the bed and he’d realized, at that pace, it wouldn’t be closing. Minimizing was essential.

“You’ll message me, yeah?”

“Mhm.”

“And send photos?”

“Of what?” At this, the CEO was looking up, first noticing how Milo had began to crawl up Harry’s shoulder in a similar fashion he’d do with himself.

It was endearing.

“Auckland.” Harry answered, fingers running down the ginger cat’s tail before his hands came to rest in his lap. “Like.. I dunno what they have there.. Nature? A kangaroo?”

“That’s Australia.”

“See, this is why I need photos.”

Thirty minutes later, the CEO was bringing his suitcase back to the living area and checking his watch. Clad in a full suit, hair done, freshly-showered, he fixed his tie once before eyeing Harry who was slowly making his way down the hall.

“No need to look so..” Brendon began, a small smile dancing on his lips. _“..forlorn.”_

“Forlorn?” Harry’s eyebrows knitted together in a tight furrow and Milo, who was still settled in his arms, let out a quiet _‘meow!’_ before he was being set down.

“Like..” Brendon hadn’t expected to be required to elaborate. “..I’m abandoning you.”

“You _are_ abandoning me..” Harry murmured, approaching Brendon so he could take his face in his hands. The closeness was something the businessman was growing used to, holding his gaze this time around much easier. “..suppose s’alright though.”

The silence that followed hadn’t been uncomfortable, and Brendon found himself surprised at the sinking in his chest. The student’s incessant whining that entire day when it came to his impending departure had been met with an internal roll of the eyes and passive comment, yet then..

Things were different.

Harry had closed the distance for another kiss -- could’ve been the thousandth that day -- yet Brendon found he was leaning in for more. And when the student had began pulling away, Brendon wrapped his arms tighter around his waist. Just barely.

Harry seemed to have noticed this and didn’t loosen his hold on him any more, fingers lingering at his steely jaw as the silence stretched.

Brendon’s eyes flickered between the sea of vibrant emerald, and he hadn’t realized he’d been committing the sight to memory till the quiet ticking of the analog clock some distance away was making him painfully aware of the time. And before he could stop himself, he parted his lips and made yet another admission in the span of two days.

“I’ll miss you.”

He could tell -- Harry’s eyes slightly widened at this, the Brit clearly not expecting _that_ when exchanging farewells. A moment passed where he could tell Harry was seeing whether the CEO had been serious, and when the silence stretched even thinner, he was uttering back, “I’ll miss you too.”

It was odd.

For the first time in his life, Brendon was finding it difficult to let go.

Like clockwork, his phone was going off, and Brendon was finally forced to release his hold on the student in order to see who’d ruined the particularly fragile moment.

Tom.

“I should..”

“Yeah, yeah.” Harry nodded, not needing an explanation. “I’m already packed and everything as well.”

“You can..” Brendon peered around the penthouse before meeting the student’s gaze. “..stick around for a bit.”

Harry’s eyebrows were raising at this.

“I don’t mind.” 

“You sure?” The Brit asked, clearly not expecting that level of generosity.

Brendon didn’t want to comment on how Harry’s bed back in Hounslow was _jarring_ even from just sitting on it once, so he merely nodded. “Spend the night, yeah.”

This act of generosity alone seemed to be a lot for the uni student who began to blink rapidly.

“Harry.. you’re crying?”

“I’m not crying.”

“You are.”

_“Shut it.”_

The shove that met Brendon’s shoulder caused another grin to dance on the CEO’s lips who couldn’t recall smiling _that_ much in a day before.

“I can have Joaquim come over in the morning, fix you breakfast and everything. You can be me for a day.”

Harry held his gaze, clearly on the verge of arguing before he seemed to decide against it. “Do I have to work?”

At this, an unexpected laugh was bubbling over Brendon’s lips. “You’re a dork.”

The buzzing was returning seconds later, and the CEO didn’t bother peering at his phone this time around.

“Alright.. before Tom has a stroke -- really have to go. Can’t miss this flight.”

“I’m sure you’d find a way to make the pilot and _all_ the passengers wait, B.” Harry commented, though he was already approaching the CEO, arms spread in preparation for a hug.

“That’s one of the few things I, unfortunately, wouldn’t be able to pull off.” Brendon murmured into the sea of curls, arms wrapping around the student’s lithe figure as he pulled him close.

He could feel Harry bury his face in his neck, light breath tickling his ear before he was muttering, “You always find a way.”


	14. Self Control

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _It was annoying. How good the CEO was at this._
> 
> _Though, silently, Harry was basking in it._
> 
> _The attention._
> 
> _The closeness._
> 
> _The **pleasure**. _

_Harry: Is it super hot? Are theyre accents weird?_

_Brendon: their*_  
_[ typing.. ]_  
_It’s warm. Was in the mid-60s today. Their accents are fine? What would constitute as weird?_

 _Harry: 60!?_  
_[ typing.. ]_  
_O farenheit. Thats not too bad then_  
_[ typing.. ]_  
_Idk? They sound odd_  
_[ typing.. ]_  
_When do u land?_

_Brendon: It’s looking like late Friday right now. Maybe a bit earlier because of time differences._

_Harry: O cool._  
_[ typing.. ]_  
_[ typing.. ]_  
_[ typing.. ]_  
_What are u doing for New Years?_

_Brendon: Working, probably._

_Harry: Working? Even New Years Eve?_

_Brendon: I’m the CEO, H._

_Harry: I know_  
_[ typing.. ]_  
_[ typing.. ]_  
_Well if u decide to take a break for a couple hours we’re throwing a little thing at my place that night_  
_[ typing.. ]_  
_Itd be cool if u could come_

 _Brendon: [ message read ]_  
_[ typing.. ]_  
_I don’t celebrate New Years._  
_[ typing.. ]_  
_Plus, I’ll have to prepare for several briefings once I’m back. It isn’t looking like I’ll have a lot of free time for a while._

 _Harry: [ message read ]_  
_[ typing.. ]_  
_[ typing.. ]_  
_[ message read ]_

 _Brendon: I’m sorry, H._  
_[ typing.. ]_  
_Things are going to get really busy now that tax season is coming up in America._

 _Harry: Its fine! I totally understand_  
_[ typing.. ]_  
_Can I at least see u once u get back?_  
_[ typing.. ]_  
_[ typing.. ]_  
_I’d really like to_

 _Brendon: Of course._  
_[ typing.. ]_  
_I’ll have Tom pick you up once I’m settled and we can catch up. Sound good?_

_Harry: Great yeah. Im free whenever_

_Brendon: Great._  
_[ typing.. ]_  
_I’m being pulled into a meeting, but I’ll update you on the details when I can. Talk to you soon._

_Harry: Ok! Dont work too hard x_

He shut the laptop with a quiet _‘snap!’_ before shifting his attention to the television.

Max and Ollie had been playing one of the many games they were gifted three days prior, and it was only as Harry floated back to Earth that he realized how loud things had gotten.

“What the fuck, H!”

“Turn it back up!”

“You’ll both lose your hearing by the age of twenty if you keep that up.” Harry scolded as he placed the remote on top of the bulky TV. 

As expected, neither boys made any attempt to get out of their settled positions in order to restore things to the way they had been, and Harry then proceeded to the kitchen where he found Gemma sorting through a stack of papers at the dinner table. Emmy was kneeling  in the chair beside her, nose screwed up in concentration as she sifted through a large box of crayons.

“Haz! Wanna color with me?”

“Not right now, Em.” Harry took the seat beside her however and eyed his older sister expectantly.

“He’s giving us till the eleventh, but that’s it.” Gemma finally broke the silence after her eyes finished running down a letter, then she was sliding it his way.

Harry took it in hand and skimmed it as well, attention lingering on the signature of their landlord, Trevor. “That’s not much time..”

“I know.” 

He tore his attention away from the eviction warning and met Gemma’s gaze, earthy hazel and worried.

“I can try to scrape up what tips I can these next couple of weeks, but..” Her shoulders rose and fell in a defeated manner. “..don’t reckon it’ll be enough.”

“D’you have anything left over from those earrings?”

“I used what I didn’t spend on presents, on rent for December.. and gas.”

Harry fell silent at this. His eyes had wandered down to the coloring book Emmy was now crouched over. The illustration was of some Marvel superhero of some sort, in action.

“D’you think..” As Gemma started, Harry met her gaze once again. “..you could ask Brendon-”

“Absolutely not.”

“It wouldn’t even cost _that_ much, H. We already have-”

“ _No_ , Gem.” Harry cut her off with finality. “He’s not some ATM, we can’t just ask for hand-outs when things get tough.”

“So what do you suggest, hm?” She began collecting the stack of letters that’d been spread in front of her. “Gas, electric, _rent_ , we still have to pay off Miss Andrews for her broken windshield-”

“I thought Ollie was working it off?”

“She doesn’t want him near her property.” Gemma placed the bills in front of Harry before pushing herself out of her seat. “Don’t exactly blame her considering he’s the reason for it.”

“I’ll..” Harry continued to wrack his brain regardless, fingers flipping through the letters as he skimmed each outstanding balance. “I’ll sell my laptop.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“I don’t _need_ it.”

“H, you’re in your second year.” Gemma shot at him, eyes fixed on the coffee maker as it gave a mighty shudder then shut off. “You’ll need it sooner than you think.”

“I don’t need a _MacBook_ though.”

“What’s so wrong with asking him?” His sister inquired, though she was still whacking at the coffee maker impatiently. “Looks like he has _more_ than enough.”

“I don’t want us to have that kind of relationship.”

“What kind?” After another mighty whack, the machine was whirring on, and it began to fill the pot. Relieved, Gemma leaned on the counter and eyed Harry. “Are you two boyfriends now or something? Isn’t that standard?”

“We’re not-” Harry squirmed in his seat at this, clearly uncomfortable. “We’re not _together_. I just don’t want to be asking him for things all the time. I can’t just take his money.”

“It’s not like you’re spending it on _you_ , H. We kind of need a place to live.”

“But we’ve managed!” Harry retorted stubbornly. “He only came into our life two months ago and-”

“And it’s been the easiest two months we’ve _ever_ had, yeah.” Gemma cut him off, eyebrows raised and voice stern. “We’re not freezing out our boots this winter. The kids actually have _things_ to _do_ this vacation. Max finally has a pair of jeans that fit him, not those hideous trousers he’s been sporting since the last time we visited the thrift shop two years ago..”

“I’m not taking his money.”

“What about work?” She added. “You can’t always pick up shifts at the diner, things have been really slow lately. Does he have anything you could do?”

“Nah, he..” Harry shook his head at this too, mind wandering to the last evening he’d spent with the CEO and the revelation that came with it. “..he’s set on help.”

“Alright, well..” Gemma sighed audibly at this, clearly in no mood to bicker any longer, attention now shifting to the half-filled coffee pot. “..we’ll need to figure something out soon. Don’t reckon Trevor will take any more of our excuses this month.”

Over the next couple of days, the anxiety only seemed to build.

Harry did what he could, spending countless hours out on people’s driveway, shoveling the several inches of snow that only seemed to fall heavier and heavier as the final days of the year came to a close. Brendon had touched down early Friday just as promised, though he wasn’t inviting Harry over till later that evening.

“What’s the time difference from here to there?”

“About.. twelve hours. A bit more.” Brendon was bustling around the kitchen, preparing himself a cup of coffee.

“ _Twelve?_ So you’re like, just waking up?” Harry had settled himself on a barstool at the island and was watching as the twenty-seven-year-old added barely a dash of creamer to the jet-black beverage. 

It was a little past seven that evening, Harry had arrived an hour prior only to be kept waiting an additional twenty minutes as the CEO wrapped up a lengthy email he’d been working on. When the American didn’t immediately respond, he was adding on.

“What does jet lag feel like?”

“You’ve never..?” Brendon had placed the mug down after taking a generous swig at the question, eyes finally fixing on Harry across from him.

“Travelled? No.”

Brendon seemed quite surprised at this, but kept his thoughts to himself. “It’s basically feeling super sleep deprived for days on-end.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. I mean, it’s not some super serious thing.” For some reason, Brendon’s lips curled into a smile, and Harry did his best not to squirm in his seat under the intensity of the gaze. “Like, right now the sun would be up even though you’ll be getting tired soon.”

“Not _that_ soon.” Harry wasn’t sure why he was defending himself, but kept at it. “It’s not _that_ late..”

Brendon’s eyebrows furrowed at this in slight disbelief, but he merely brought the mug to his lips and took another swig.

“What?” Harry couldn’t help but ask.

“Nothing.”

“It’s clearly something.”

Brendon was smiling again. “You go to bed pretty early.”

“I do _not._ ”

“Just makes me wonder how you’re planning on staying up for New Years.”

Harry couldn’t control the burning in his cheeks, positive they were flaring up at this. “I can stay up as late as I like.. I just choose not to.”

“Okay.” Brendon was taking another sip at this and Harry grew slightly annoyed.

“Doesn’t matter anyway, since you won’t be around.” He didn’t mean to sound as _mad_ as he did, but the fact still left a sour taste in his mouth, regardless of how easily he’d brushed over it a few days before. Brendon seemed to notice this as well.

“I’m really sorry.” He apologized sincerely. “It’d just be a waste of time.”

“Hanging out with me is a waste of time to you?” Harry wasn’t trying to grill the CEO, he was fully aware of how Brendon had _intended_ to sound, but the more selfish part of him made it difficult to control.

Brendon didn’t say anything for a few seconds, he seemed to be studying Harry who was using every ounce of willpower to hold his intense gaze.

But then he was speaking.

“Is it because of the whole midnight kiss ordeal?”

Harry’s whole face was growing hot at this, and he allowed his eyes to wander to the glass of water he’d gotten for himself instead. The fact that the CEO had chosen to describe the tradition as an _ordeal_ was embarrassing enough, especially considering his guess had been spot-on.

Unsure of what to say to this, Harry merely shrugged, attention now on Milo who’d emerged from the hallway and was now wandering towards the living area.

“Does it mean that much to you?” Brendon was breaking the silence after some time, and Harry’s gaze flickered back only to notice the CEO had been watching him.

He shrugged. “Not really..” That had been a lie. The past three years he’d spent the holiday locking lips with Lily, his ex. And before then, it’d been whichever fling he was seeing at the time.

Harry knew he was bad at staying single, his relationship history dating back to when he’d been old enough to realize how much he hated being alone. Perhaps this was why he struggled so much with the American who seemed adamant on keeping their situation as undefined as possible.

He wondered how many people Brendon had ‘dated’ up till now.

“You sure?” Brendon asked, tugging Harry from his deep reverie.

“Does it matter?” Harry tried to keep the attitude out of his voice, not wanting to delve into another argument. “You’re busy anyway.”

He watched as the CEO placed the mug he’d been sipping on down, then made his way over to Harry’s side of the island. “It just seems like such a ludicrous tradition to me.” Brendon was telling him. And to his surprise, the CEO had taken Harry’s right hand in his left before guiding him off the stool.

“I told you, it’s fine..” Harry brushed over the topic, contradicting his own behavior, though his eyes were fixed on the American in front of him.

“I know.” As Brendon’s free hand found the small of Harry’s back, he sincerely hoped the CEO couldn’t hear the hammering of his heart inside his ribcage. “I’m still sorry.”

Brendon’s fingers loosened their hold on his hand and Harry only got one last glimpse of the twenty-seven-year-old’s long eyelashes before he was being guided into a kiss.

It was far more intense than he’d anticipated, though Harry was recovering quickly, lips parting to welcome the tongue he’d missed dearly over the past few days.

And then he was being led backwards.

His legs awkwardly followed the haste pace Brendon had set before his back was meeting a wall.

And then they were kissing some more.

At first, Harry tried his best to resist getting too caught up in the moment, but before he knew it, he was moaning into the CEO’s mouth, hungry for more.

Brendon’s hands had already started reacquainting themselves with his body, he could feel confident fingers first running up the expanse of his back before trailing downwards.

They didn’t linger at the hem of his jeans, tucking underneath instead so he could squeeze his ass.

The action had Harry’s mind wandering towards their last nude encounter which only increased the arousal ten-fold.

Harry had found the thick, luscious locks and he was lightly tugging on a handful before growing more greedy.

The sounds of their lips dancing was what filled the room as Harry blindly undid the CEO’s top. The plethora of buttons made it difficult but soon Brendon was squirming out of it.

“Arms up.” The American was ordering, and Harry didn’t need to be told twice. His tee shirt was off in seconds and when their lips met again, this time he could feel the ridges in his muscles and firmness of his torso pressing against his own chest.

It was hot, to say the least.

Forehead against forehead, tongue on tongue, Brendon led and Harry followed.

It wasn’t as though Harry _wasn’t_ good at sex -- not as far as he knew -- but when it came to the CEO, he was undoubtedly far better.

And Harry didn’t mind.

He didn’t mind being pinned so firmly against the wall that he could barely move.

He didn’t mind having his jeans tugged off so roughly the button may or may not have fallen off.

He didn’t mind the feeling of Brendon’s tongue against his neck, certainly making yet another mark he’d have to cover up for days to come.

He didn’t mind being carried to the bedroom.

And he _certainly_ didn’t mind the sight of Brendon rolling the generously lubricated condom onto his rock-hard erection.

“How long’s it been?”

“Hm?” Harry had missed the entirety of the question, gaze fixated on what would be his sole source of limitless pleasure that evening.

“How long has it been?” Brendon repeated, lips curling into another smile as he opened the bottle of lube with a _‘pop!’_.

“Oh, uh..” Though he didn’t have to think hard about this one. “..you were my last.”

It was true.

He wasn’t entirely positive, but Brendon seemed pleased at this -- though before he could think any further on it, two fingers were making their way into his tight hole and he was effectively distracted.

Whether due to the CEO’s experience or the complete arousal coursing through him, opening up to the digits wasn’t difficult at all.

Brendon had propped one of his legs on his shoulder once again, similarly to the first time, and Harry couldn’t deny the excitement flooding his system at the anticipation of it all.

Not to mention, the American looked _especially_ handsome in this position, hair disheveled and expression slightly amused -- as it always was when Harry was involved.

“Are you gonna..” His breathing had grown heavier after some time, those very fingers had wandered their way deep inside him and Brendon had begun brushing the tips against the sensitive bundle of nerves.

“Am I gonna what?” The twenty-seven-year-old asked, the same interest in his tone.

 _“Fuck..”_ Harry couldn’t bite back the moan. His eyes fluttered shut as the pleasure intensified, undoubtedly because Brendon had started adding more pressure. It quickly became overwhelming and his fingers closed around handfuls of sheet in order to keep control. “Are you.. Are you- _shit_..”

Harry had hooked up with guys before, he’d done both jobs -- been in control and given control -- yet this particular part of foreplay was one that was generally glazed over.

So he wasn’t used to it.

_“Oh, fuckin’ hell.. like that..”_

So it was hard to focus.

He’d just started rolling his hips in the opposite direction of Brendon’s fingers in order to get _more_ when a firm hand was pinning his waist to the bed.

“Am I not enough?”

Harry’s eyes fluttered open to find Brendon pulling out his fingers and settling between his legs. “You are.”

“So relax.”

At this, Harry’s eyebrows furrowed, a small smile dancing on his lips. “You just want me to take it?”

Brendon met his gaze, fingers buried in the sheets beside him as he applied pressure to Harry’s hole. “That’s right.” He agreed, and the burning sensation increased slightly as the feeling of being filled overwhelmed his senses. “Just take it.”

It was a lot.

The last time they’d slept together being a month ago, Harry seemed to have forgotten just _how_ big the CEO really was.

His fingers instead found Brendon’s toned biceps and he squeezed as he adjusted to the feeling.

“You okay?”

“Yeah.” Emerald eyes met earthy brown as he reassured the American, and that seemed to be enough for Brendon who was already retracting his hips, only to thrust inside him again.

It was _a lot_.

Though Harry couldn’t remember anyone saying too much of a _good_ thing was _bad_.

As Brendon found a rhythm, the moans were practically impossible to bite back.

Harry found himself clawing at toned arms and shoulders and a broad back as the foreign visitor pounded its way in again and _again_ and _again_.

_“Oh, fuck..”_

He couldn’t keep track of how many positions he’d been put into.

Missionary had lasted some time -- though he was sure Brendon had grown tired of all the red nail marks Harry had undoubtedly clawed into him, because things were changing.

Then Harry was on his hands and knees, though _that_ hadn’t lasted long at all. The fingers of his right hand met the headboard for support, forehead resting on the expensive wood as Brendon slammed into him again _and again_.

It was in that position specifically that Harry was extremely grateful for the seclusion of the penthouse, had anyone been in decent proximity to the bedroom just then, they would’ve been subjected to sounds _definitely_ not safe work. 

The CEO seemed to have more leverage in this situation as well, each thrust of the hips sending him deep inside. And it was only when Harry registered the expert fingers beginning to work his shaft that he was speaking up.

Pleading, more like.

_“Wait, wait, wait-I’m gonna cum-don’t-”_

So they were switching again.

Brendon seemed to decide to slow things down in this next position, and Harry was inwardly grateful. His own thighs had already began to burn as he struggled to stay propped up which was probably why the American laid him on his side next.

“You don’t wanna cum?”

“Not until you do.” Harry’s voice was shaky as he said this, clearly out of breath, and he allowed Brendon to orient his limbs, unfamiliar with this position.

“We’ll be here a while.” He could feel Brendon’s breath on his ear as the CEO lifted his top leg.

“I can wait.”

Though he wasn’t entirely sure if that was the truth.

Brendon kept Harry’s top leg elevated as he entered him once again, and the careful, methodical thrusting seemed just as stimulating as the others.

Just slower.

_“Oh god..”_

It was annoying. How good the CEO was at this.

Though, silently, Harry was basking in it.

The attention.

The closeness.

The _pleasure_. 

Brendon was sweating now, and Harry could feel the toned torso pressing into his back from their spooned position.

And every now and then, the American’s soft, plump lips would press against his temple, or gentle teeth would nibble on his earlobe.

As Harry’s fingers selfishly reached back to tangle into damp, jet-black locks, it took everything in the Brit’s power to keep from finishing.

“You can cum..” 

“I don’t want to.”

“You do want to.”

He did.

He really, _really_ did.


	15. Faking It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _**“Waitwaitwait..”** Harry was pleading between giggles as Brendon wedged himself between his legs. The hands that were pushing on his toned torso were pried apart at the wrists by stronger fingers. **“Brendon, wait-”**_
> 
> _Then his lips were finding Harry’s neck._
> 
> _Where he’d normally leave a hickey, Brendon was blowing a particularly obnoxious raspberry, and the sound of Harry’s laughter bounced off the walls of that dimly lit penthouse in downtown London._

It was endearing.

Brendon was fully capable of _making_ the college student teeter over the edge, but considering how adamant Harry was being about the whole thing, he figured going against his wishes wouldn’t be taken lightly.

So he took it easy.

Harry’s hair was damp and the thick locks were clinging to the CEO’s shoulder. 

The twenty-year-old was leaning against him with just about his entire weight, and had Brendon not been a daily visitor at the gym, he would’ve requested _some_ space.

Another moan was filthily dripping off Harry’s lips and Brendon used the opportunity to release his hold on the student’s leg so he could instead begin to work his length once again 

_“Brendon..”_

The CEO bared his teeth on Harry’s lobe, nipping it affectionately. “Like it when you say my name..”

Though it was dark, the only sources of light coming from the hallway and fellow skyscrapers, he could still make out the tiny details that made Harry, Harry.

One thing in particular were those dimples, which grew in size as he registered the quiet admission.

“S’just for you.. 

 _Just for you._  

The comment stirred something inside Brendon who, instead of attempting to process the foreign emotion, decided to increase the pace in which he was thrusting 

This, luckily, seemed to be enough, the student’s eyes fluttering shut as he luxuriated in the feeling.

But then Brendon caught himself staring.

It was annoying. How pretty Harry was.

Part of him wondered if the student was aware of it. Brendon found it hard to believe that Harry’s modesty would extend _that_ far. He was conventionally attractive, it was impossible to deny.

“On your back.”

“Wait.”

Brendon had been in the midst of pulling out and aiding Harry till the student was stopping him. “Did you want to stick with this?”

“No..” Harry seemed to be debating something, and it was Brendon’s curiosity that kept him silent. “..I want to ride you.”

 _That_ was unexpected.

“Right now?” Brendon tried to keep his tone as neutral as possible.

“Yeah, can I?” Harry asked with more confidence this time around.

“Have you.. done it before?” He was inquiring, although Harry was already pushing Brendon down onto his back and slinging a leg over his waist.

“Yeah, once.”

_Once._

“H..” Brendon’s hand found the student’s waist in an attempt to stop him from mounting him completely. “Maybe we should leave this for another time.”

“How come?” Harry’s fingers were gently running down his torso, feeling at the dips in his toned abdominals. “I wanna make you feel good.”

“It’s just..” Brendon struggled to compose an explanation that _wouldn’t_ hurt his feelings. “..people don’t generally do it well.. the first few times..”

“Well, no one’s perfect, right?” Harry retorted, determination etched on his features. “This can be practice.”

Brendon decided to keep to himself the fact that he preferred _not_ to be used as a test dummy, biting his tongue as Harry lowered himself onto the erection.

“You’re so big..” The student was sharing, and Brendon couldn’t deny that Harry’s particular tightness _did_ feel good.

“Take it easy, okay?” He ordered gently as Harry began to roll his hips. The sensation wasn’t necessarily bad, but it didn’t make lying there and doing _nothing_ any better.

He tightened his grip on the Brit’s hips and started to guide him, hoping the slight assistance would help.

“S’that alright?” To his internal horror, Harry was asking for feedback.

“Yeah.” Brendon was used to lying, his career called for it often, but what he wasn’t prepared for was having to fake an orgasm with _Harry_.

Now, the CEO knew telling the truth was an option, but considering their sex life was already compromised due to his own unwillingness to reach the finish line whilst inside Harry, he figured discouraging him further wouldn’t help things. 

The student seemed to find his response promising -- as a result, increasing the pace of his bouncing. Brendon proceeded to meet him in the middle until those same moans were escaping Harry’s lips and his expression was screwing up in concentration.

 _“Shit..”_  

Brendon met him halfway, deliberately intensifying his own breathing till he was intentionally matching Harry’s moans.

This seemed to be enough for the Brit who attempted to increase his pacing, but ended up supporting himself with his hands on Brendon’s chest as he was thrust into -- from below instead.

Harry clearly couldn’t withstand things much longer, his nails beginning to dig into Brendon’s pecs as he neared the finish line 

 _“Oh god.. Oh..”_  

Trained in the art of _faking it_ in desperate times, Brendon mimicked his own climax, face contorting in what he assumed was a convincing expression and letting out a hushed moan while Harry’s eyes were still wired shut.

Then the twenty-year-old was quieting down.

His breathing was ragged, and curls clung to his temple as he came down from the intense orgasm. Brendon didn’t dare interrupt, silently hoping a certain question wouldn’t follow.

But then it did.

“D’you cum?”

 _God._  

“Yeah.” The lie tasted sour in Brendon’s mouth, but he ignored this, figuring it was for the best. “Did you? 

A stupid question.

He didn’t realize how out of character it’d sounded till Harry’s eyebrows knitted together in a furrow. “No need to tease..” He was making his way off of Brendon moments later however and the CEO seized the opportunity to get up himself.

He was concealing the empty condom deep in the trash of the bathroom when Harry’s voice floated into the en suite.

“Can you stay in bed for a bit?”

“Hm? Of course.” Brendon emerged from the bathroom once he was sure the student wouldn’t accidentally stumble upon the evidence and was just settling himself on the king size bed when Harry was immediately erasing the distance between them.

His arm had slung around Brendon’s torso and gentle lips pressed against his shoulder before he was breaking the silence. “A bit upset I missed it.”

Brendon tore his gaze away from the analog clock on the wall so he could meet Harry’s. “Missed what?”

Harry seemed to shy at the question, and Brendon could feel his restless fingers tracing shapes into his skin. He eyed the CEO for a moment before answering. “You know.. _your_ finish.”

At this, Brendon was breaking eye contact once again, for some reason against the idea of lying to the student while in such close proximity to one another. Instead of allowing the silence to settle, the Brit was speaking up once again. 

“You sure I was okay?”

Gazing into those large, emerald eyes and being consistently dishonest was a workout of its own. “H.. Relax.”

“I _am_ relaxed.” Harry retorted gently. “I just want to make sure, you know..” He shrugged. “..you are too.”

“I am.” Brendon reassured him, taking the chance to evade directly answering the question by the reigns.

“I missed you a lot.”

Not that _this_ type of conversation was any better.

“I missed you too.” That wasn’t a lie, though admitting to such vulnerability made the CEO increasingly uneasy.

Harry seemed to notice this, because soon he was commenting on it. “Am I making you uncomfortable?” Amusement was laced in his tone.

“A bit, yeah.”

“You did actually miss me though, right?”

“Of course.” Brendon murmured, studying him. Harry’s eyes were heavy.

He seemed sleepy.

“I don’t..” Brendon figured it would be best to elaborate after a beat of silence. “I don’t really do.. pillowtalk.”

“I know.” Harry replied without a moment’s hesitation. “I appreciate it, you know..” He added, emerald staring into earthy brown as his fingers traced Brendon’s sharp jawline. “..You trying.”

The guilt only seemed to thicken with this admission, but Brendon shoved it down.

“These past couple months have been.. crazy.” Harry continued. “And I know things haven’t been easy, I know I can be a little.. hot-tempered at times, but like..”

Brendon was watching him, unsure of where his thought process was heading. He was more than happy with keeping things where they were, emotional territory was primarily what he tried to stay away from at all costs. Harry seemed to have other things on his mind, however.

“..suppose, I just..”

_God, please stop._

“..never really been in this sort of _situation_ before, y’know?”

As the seconds of silence ticked on after the final statement, slight relief washed over Brendon. 

The subject of labels wasn’t his forte.

“I know.” For a moment, Brendon struggled. Unsure of how to continue, he chewed on his bottom lip, weighing his words. “This is really different for me too.” He figured honesty would be the best policy in this case.

“And I do appreciate all you did for my siblings as well.” To his relief, Harry took the reigns once again, slightly shifting the topic off _feelings_  

“Did you guys end up having a good Christmas?” Brendon realized he hadn’t asked.

“Yeah, yeah.” Harry nodded vigorously at this. “I mean.. the end was a bit better than the beginning, but..”

Right.

Though it’d happened under a week ago, the argument had flown from Brendon’s mind.

“..it was good, yeah. Um..” Harry nodded again, though the expression on his face made it seem as if he had more to say.

“Everything okay?” Growing tired of being lounged on his back, Brendon shifted onto his side, finally comfortable with holding Harry’s gaze full-on now that they were off the topic of _orgasms_ and _feelings_.

Harry didn’t answer straight away which only fueled his curiosity further. “It’s nothing.. Not really.”

That wouldn’t do. “Seems like something.”

Harry seemed to be going through an intense internal battle.

“What is it?” Brendon pressed, knowing full well how Harry was when it came to family situations.

“It’s nothing, it’s stupid.” Harry had broken eye contact, instead gazing at his restless fingers which were still tracing indistinct shapes into Brendon’s bare torso.

“I’m sure it isn’t.”

“Gemma just-” Harry shook his head. “It’s just a slight issue.”

“Was it her present?” Brendon asked, figuring his wrong guesses would get him to the right one. “Or is it about her girlfriend?” He added, vaguely remembering the possessive female from the party. 

“No, no..” Harry sat up at this and Brendon followed suit. “We’re just..” The student was fidgeting with his fingers impressively now. “..in a bit of a tight spot.” 

“What? Like, financially?” The Brit’s explanation didn’t seem like a problem at all. “Can I help?” Brendon knew he could, though it entirely relied on Harry’s _willingness_ to let him.

“Um..” The hesitation was a good sign. It was better than outright _no_.

“Let me help.” Brendon didn’t enjoy seeing Harry struggle, he found that out early on. The student’s innocence played a large factor, as well as his ignorance.

But mostly, he cared about him.

Remembering their previous encounter, Brendon reached out and placed a gentle hand on the small of Harry’s bare back before running his fingers up to his neck. The Brit wasn’t exactly _toned_ \-- he clearly didn’t work out -- but he was fit. Brendon attributed it to all the bike riding. 

“If there’s any way I can take the stress off, you know I’d be more than happy to.” He chose his words carefully, aware of how sensitive Harry was about the whole thing. He seemed to be relaxing under Brendon’s touch however, which was a good sign. He continued to knead at the base of Harry’s neck until the student was responding.

“I _really_ don’t like asking for money.”

“I know.”

“And _as_ _soon_ as I can pay you back I will.”

“Take your time.” Brendon couldn’t help but smile at the statement. “Once you’re some hot-shot software engineer, you can take me on endless shopping sprees and buy me all the coffee in the world.”

The joke seemed to do the trick, Harry’s own lips curling into a small smile.

“How much do you need?”

At this, Harry’s eyebrows knitted into a furrow, clearly doing mental math.

“Or how about..” Brendon cut in before he could answer. “..I just stop at the bank on the way to the office tomorrow. You don’t have to give me a total or anything. What time do you have to head home tomorrow?” He figured the Brit wouldn’t be open to missing his own pointless New Years party that evening.

“Sometime in the early afternoon.” Harry was answering vaguely with an expression on his features that made it seem as if he were being forced into the biggest bank heist of the century.

“So around two-ish?”

“That’d be alright, yeah.”

At this answer, Brendon was reaching for his phone on the bedside table, and he opened up his calendar. The CEO had two devices, one was personal and one for business. The way to tell was the phone case, his personal was a black iPhone donned with a blue navy covering and his business was plain black on black.

A difference subtle enough only those close to him would notice.

In the darkness, it was hard to tell which one he had in hand currently, but it didn’t matter.

His schedule was synced into both.

“Would you mind tagging along?” He was speaking up after considerable silence.

“What?”

Brendon tore his gaze away from the bright screen, only to meet Harry’s puzzled one. “Would you mind tagging along? To the office. It’d just be easier with traffic and everything. Then Tom can take you straight home.”

“Er..”

“Or actually, he could bring you over a bit later if you prefer sleeping in, then take you from there. It’s up to you.” For some reason, this suggestion seemed to shaken Harry who allowed a moment to pass as he mulled things over.

“Yeah, that’s fine.”

“Are you sure? You seem.. against it.”

“No! It’s just..” He was still playing with his fingers. “..Feel like I’d stand out a bit..” Then he met Brendon’s gaze. “..in that sort of place..”

Brendon hadn’t taken this into consideration. “No one will care.” He assured the twenty-year-old. “I mean.. They can’t really. I’m their boss.”

It was the truth.

“Plus, if you’re so nervous, you can put on something Hayley picked out for you. You’d blend right in, honestly. It’s mostly.. younger people.”

Graduates. Harry would fall on the younger side of the spectrum, but he _did_ look old for his age. Sure, there were older folk, but a majority of the employees in the building were in their mid-twenties to mid-thirties.

This seemed to help some, because Harry was nodding vigorously. “Okay, yeah. I can come a bit later then.”

“Thought you’d say that.” He smiled at Harry’s suggestion and the student was furrowing his eyebrows, looking slightly affronted. “You and mornings don’t seem to get along. 

This was earning Brendon another shove.

They’d melted into regular conversation following this, back meeting the sheets once again as Harry erased all remaining space between them. As per usual, the main topic of discussion was Brendon.

“Are your parents still together?”

“Mhm.”

“What are their names?”

“My dad’s Richard and my mom’s Lily. 

“And your sister’s..” Harry’s breath was cool on Brendon’s neck from their snuggled position. Though he wasn’t much of a cuddler, he found he didn’t mind the closeness. “..Lottie. And your brother’s.. Isaac?”

“That’s right.”

“And you were born in Oyster Bay -- which is sort of like a beach -- and..” Harry trailed into silence, clearly racking his brain for more invasive questions to ask. “When’s your birthday?”

“January third.”

 _“What?”_ Harry’s head was popping up at this, his flyaway hair looking especially crazy in the light flooding in from the hallway. Milo had wandered in some time ago, and was jumping off the bed at the sudden movement.

Brendon’s eyebrows furrowed. “Hm?”

“January third?”

“Yes.”

“But that’s so soon.”

Unsure of what to say to this, Brendon merely held Harry’s gaze, slight amusement etched across his features.

“Why didn’t you say something?”

“About my birthday?”

“Yeah.”

Brendon shrugged. “It happens every year..”

“Exactly.”

“I don’t really celebrate it anymore.”

This explanation softened Harry’s features, and the student was resting his head back on Brendon’s chest. “D’you celebrate _anything_?” He asked after another silence settled.

“Successes?” A poor attempt at answering the question, but it had been the truth.

“Like, at work?”

“Yes.”

“You’re unbelievable.”

“People look for too many reasons to party these days. It’s wasteful.”

“ _You_ think it’s wasteful?” Harry’s tone caused his own eyebrows to raise. “ _You_.. the man who has two cell phones, a chef, a driver, a personal trainer, don’t even _know_ _how_ many assistants, and a three bedroom, three bathroom penthouse at the top of..”

“ _Okay_ , I get it.” Brendon was grinning at this. Harry’s sassy attitude was quickly becoming one of his favorites.

He could feel Harry’s lips stretch into a smile on his chest, and the student was pressing the soft pair on his pec moments later before adding, “You’re silly.”

“Really? Me?”

“I was joking.”

“Oh.” Brendon hadn’t caught on to Harry’s teasing tone. He was meeting his gaze once the student peered up at him seconds later.

Then Harry was laughing.

Even in the low-lighting, it was a pretty sight. His nose scrunched, eyes narrowing, lashes meeting as the giggles poured over his lips. Brendon’s stomach was flipping violently at this, but he chose to ignore it. 

As best he could.

“I don’t appreciate being laughed at..” He was murmuring, though his own lips were pulling into another smile, the whole thing thoroughly entertaining in his eyes.

“I’m not laughing _at_ you.”

“You’re full of shit.”

Harry was still sniggering, and Brendon found himself getting caught with a sudden urge.

“Still find me funny?”

“No.” Harry clearly lied, sleepy eyes still gazing up at him.

“I’ll give you something to laugh about..” Then he was pushing Harry onto his back. The twenty-year-old did his best to resist, though considering he was not only exceptionally weaker but also still in an intense post-orgasm haze, the struggle proved futile.

 _“Waitwaitwait..”_ Harry was pleading between giggles as Brendon wedged himself between his legs. The hands that were pushing on his toned torso were pried apart at the wrists by stronger fingers. _“Brendon, wait-”_

Then his lips were finding Harry’s neck. 

Where he’d normally leave a hickey, Brendon was blowing a particularly obnoxious raspberry, and the sound of Harry’s laughter bounced off the walls of that dimly lit penthouse in downtown London.


	16. For Better or Worse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _If Harry was good at anything -- it was hugs._
> 
> _Brendon reciprocated the motion, and the butterflies returned as he felt the CEO brush his lips against his earlobe affectionately._
> 
> _Yeah, he was smitten._
> 
> _For better or worse._

He was smitten.

The fact alone had taken Harry weeks to come to terms with, but as he lay alone in the overwhelmingly comfortable bed in downtown London that New Years Eve.. He knew.

He couldn’t deny it any longer.

He’d stirred when Brendon had woken up early that morning. Though he was still in a sleepy haze, he’d been adamant when it came to saying goodbye and pulled the CEO down for additional kisses before the American had made his leave. 

It wasn’t as if the twenty-seven-year-old had been against, Harry could’ve sworn he felt his lips curl into the smallest smile when he’d snuck in the extra pecks which only caused the tiny fluttering in the pit of his stomach to go haywire.

It was promising, to say the least.

Harry was aware of the fact that he _definitely_ had come off as needy the previous night, the extra assurances he’d demanded extreme even for him, but he couldn’t help it. It was hard to deny Brendon was constantly stealing his attention these days, even if there were tons of people in the room. And when they weren’t together, he found his mind frequently wandering to those large eyes and icy demeanor.

He had a feeling it was melting away. 

Harry had stopped holding back when it came to his touchiness and the fact that Brendon no longer looked for reasons to create distance between them _had_ to mean something. These thoughts stayed with him as he stroked the ginger fur on the Bengal cat. Milo had woken Harry a few minutes prior by sniffing at his messy mop of hair and meowing incessantly.

Then he realized what time it was. 

They’d agreed to have Tom pick Harry up at noon. The clock currently read eleven, so the Brit slipped out of bed and breezed through the preparations. His shower had been quick -- though he lingered under the powered jets and scorching hot water for longer -- merely because he could. 

Getting dressed was a problem of its own. 

Harry was in no way proficient when it came to _style_ so upon entering the walk-in closet in the second guest room -- which had been filled with all the clothes Hayley had coerced him into getting at the beginning of the month -- he became increasingly aware of how out of his element already was and he hadn’t even set foot in the CEO’s workspace yet.

Figuring jeans were the easiest way to go, Harry tugged on a pair. This had turned into a struggle, Hayley had been insistent on getting the _skinniest_ kind the high-end stores offered and following squirming into the tight article of clothing, he found himself seriously debating just going in sweats. 

But he decided against.

Next was a top. After considerable digging, he found a patterned button-down that _didn’t_ make him feel as if he was trying as hard as he actually was and shrugged it on. It’d ended awkwardly above his wrists, so he proceeded to roll it up to an acceptable length then peered at the full-body mirror.

He didn’t look half bad.

The top was a modest blue and green, the abstract patterns causing the colors to twist around each other and the vibrancy making his emerald eyes pop. The hem was an awkward shape, a noticeable dip in the front and back as opposed to being level like a normal t-shirt, so he tucked the front part into his jeans -- which was difficult due to his belt -- in a fashion similar to the people on the makeover shows Gemma would watch.

It was as he was bending down to tug on socks and boots that something fell out of the front pocket of his top and he lifted the shimmering item curiously, noticing it was a necklace upon further inspection.

Hayley was always one step ahead.

He slung it around his neck, figuring the embellishment wouldn’t hurt, then pulled on a peacoat for warmth.

He was buttering his fourth piece of toast that afternoon when Tom emerged from the elevator, his coat slightly damp from the snowfall outside.

“Whenever you’re ready, Mister Styles.”

“Harry.” He stubbornly corrected the driver, though he followed him nonetheless. “As soon as I get a decent job, the first thing I’m doing is bribing you to never call me _Mister Styles_ again.”

Tom was laughing.

They pulled up at the professional building just under ten minutes later, and the nervous flips his stomach had been doing seemed to intensify as he slipped out of the car and into the wintery air.

The first thing he noticed was how _tall_ the skyscraper was. Harry sent his gaze upwards and could swear the considerable cloud cover and light flurries made seeing the very top practically impossible.

Next thing he noticed was the triangular shape of the building. It seemed to be entirely made of glass, windows starting as low as the lobby and extending up towards the top.

As he approached the doors, the giant logo perched across the front caught his eye. A large panther, the silver tint shining under the harsh natural light and causing him to squint even more.

“Mister Styles.”

Harry’s eyes snapped downwards and he noticed two security guards at the door, both poised and standing rigidly in their spot. They each gave him a curt nod upon eye contact. Instead of asking _how_ they knew who he was, he merely flashed a polite smile back. The question of how they managed to stay outside without freezing to death was answered as well as the automatic doors opened, and intense heat came flooding through.

The lobby was large. 

The ceilings were high -- even higher than the ones at Rathbone Square -- and fancy sculptures of the modern variety were placed strategically around the entrance area. The lighting reflected off the perfectly polished floors and Harry subtly peered at his reflection in the smooth granite, silently grateful the shopping spree _had_ happened, otherwise he wasn’t sure he’d be able to live down the shame of walking into such a luxurious building in his regular attire.

“Um.. hi.” He approached the front desk where three receptionists were settled, one on the phone, one chatting with an associate that’d just walked in, and the other typing away on an iMac.

The one who’d been concentrating on her computer was looking up and met his gaze with a polite smile. “Hi, how can I help you?" 

“I’m here to see Brendon..” Harry murmured, clearing his voice once he realized how _shy_ he’d sounded. “..Urie.”

At this, even the receptionist that’d been chatting with a co-worker was putting a pause to her conversation and eyed him curiously.

“The.. CEO?” The lady he’d been speaking to -- Danielle, by the looks of her name tag -- seemed noticeably surprised. Though he could tell she was trying to remain professional. 

“Yeah..” Harry was sure the request must’ve sounded ludicrous. He looked barely twenty, lacked the professional attire everyone else in the vicinity was wearing, and probably came off a bit _too_ casual when it came to the ambitious request.

The co-worker beside him, a man who looked to be a few years older than himself, was now staring. Harry could feel his cheeks begin to warm up, growing increasingly aware of how many eyes were now on him.

“Did you have a question, dear? I’d love to help you.” The lady that had been on the phone had just hung up. “Are you here for an interview?”

He blushed harder.

“No, no. Erm..” Entirely unsure of how to phrase things, Harry did his best not to shuffle in his spot. “I’m a friend.” 

That sounded _even more_ ridiculous.

“Harry!”

At this, he was turning his head in the direction of the voice. As soon as he locked eyes with the personal assistant, he was smiling. “Hayley, hey.”

The Eurasian had just entered, hands cradling a cup of coffee and clipboard as she approached. “Long time no see! They’re not giving you any trouble, are they?” She asked as she pulled him in for a hug. She was shooting the receptionists a playful wink afterwards to show she’d been joking. 

“I’m sorry. We didn’t realize-” 

“It’s fine.” Her blonde high pony wiggled in her wake as she shook her head vigorously, stopping Danielle mid-apology.

“He didn’t really tell me how to get _in_.” Harry told the assistant anyway, feeling immensely guilty at how mortified those at the front desk looked. “Wasn’t sure how to-” 

“Don’t worry about it. Want a coffee?” Hayley held out the Starbucks cup towards him and Harry shook his head. “They gave me a regular mocha, but I prefer white. It’s no biggie, I should really be cutting down on caffeine as it is.” Her lips were moving a mile a minute, which only validated this fact. “Do any of you guys want it?” She offered those at the front desk. Danielle, who looked slightly more relieved, nodded enthusiastically and Hayley was placing it down on the counter before shooting Harry another smile. “I’ll show you up.”

Harry followed, doing his best to resist the urge to glance back at the front desk. He had the odd feeling he was still being watched.

A man who was dressed similarly to the security guards outside opened the elevator as they approached and Harry flashed him a polite smile.

“You look _great_ by the way.” Hayley complimented him as soon as the lift doors were shutting behind them and the elevator was beginning the steady climb. “Who dressed you?” She added with a teasing wink.

“Yeah, these jeans are..” Harry peered down at the denim. “..tight. Reckon they’re too small.”

“Too small?” At Hayley’s tone, Harry met her gaze. “They’re _skinny jeans_ , Harry.” 

“Yeah, but..” He couldn’t help but protest. “..this seems extreme.”

“Have you seen your butt in them? Cause it looks incredible.” She was sharing shamelessly and Harry could feel his face grow hot. “Actually, lemme take your coat.”

“That’s alright, I’m-” 

“That wasn’t a _question_. Gimme your damn coat, Styles.”

Harry shrugged it off, feeling increasingly self-conscious as he did so. He’d been on the verge of making the lame excuse of being cold, but the building was so well-heated he knew it would’ve been a lost cause. 

“Okay, now lemme..” Hayley had slung the coat over her shoulder and approached him so she could make adjustments to his clothing. He hadn’t realized how carelessly he’d put everything on till she was making endless fixes to it. “You look fucking hot, dude.” 

“Uh.. thanks.” He murmured, trying not to shy under her critical gaze. “Woah, wait-” Harry had taken a step back as soon as he felt fingers on his shirt. “What’re you doing?” 

“You buttoned it up too high. You’re not at church, hun.”

“That’s why the buttons are there-”

“No _,_ it’s _aesthetic_. You have to leave a few undone, just let me show you.”

By the time the elevator was coming to a stop, there was a considerable breeze at Harry’s torso. By a _few_ Hayley had meant several, and the long necklace he’d slung on was now in full view -- as well as a portion of his chest. 

“I feel ridiculous.” 

“You look great.” Hayley gave him one more look-over before leading him out of the lift.

They’d entered another large, lobby-like area, though this time there were only two receptionists at the front desk as opposed to three.

“Hayley, where’s the coffee?” The man who’d been flicking through his computer asked, a smile etched across his features. He was handsome.

“Starbucks messed up my order, so I’m going stag till after lunch. Wish me luck.” It was as she approached the desk that the male had noticed Harry and his eyes curiously wandered down his figure. Well-groomed, dirty-blonde hair framed his features and bright, blue eyes popped due to his sapphire button-down.

Harry _really_ wished he’d been more stubborn about keeping his coat.

“This is Harry.” Hayley was introducing him moments later and the other male receptionist at the desk was shifting his attention towards them. “Harry, this is Tweedle-dee and Tweedle-dum.”

“Oh, _ha-ha_.” The other male scoffed, he was full-on blonde and seemed kinder than the first -- though equally as attractive. “Don’t listen to her. I’m Peter and he’s James.” He stood at this and Harry was a beat late in reaching forward to shake his hand, not expecting the courtesy. “Are you interviewing?” 

“Oh, no.” Harry murmured with a polite shake of the head.

“Stop being so nosey.” Hayley scolded playfully which only earned her a scoff from Peter. “Come on, just this way.” She directed at Harry before proceeding down a long, wide hallway. 

The doors were made of glass which made peering in curiously easy and each room seemed to be donned with its own special design. In large letters across the front were various names and titles: 

_CMO.._

_CBO.._

_CIO.._

_COO.._

_CFO.._

_President.._

At one point, Harry had to dodge out of the way of a group of people that came pouring out of a particular room. A female, clearly the alpha, was chattering rapidly as several people behind her recorded her statements. A few had iPads in hand, others just notepads.

“This place is..” Harry began, jogging a bit to catch up to Hayley once he realized he’d fallen behind.

“Big? Busy? Crowded? All of the above?” Hayley cut in with a kind smile.

“Yeah..” Harry’s eyes were still flicking from door to door. Though it wasn’t _crowded_. There was an impressive amount of people, but the building seemed more than capable of providing sufficient room for each person.

Before he could say more, his attention was shifting to a grandiose pair of glass doors at the very end of the hall, lined with gold -- which wouldn’t be surprising if they were _real_ \-- and the familiar name scrawled across in expert cursive.

 _Brendon B. Urie  
_ _Chief Executive Officer  
_ _Silver Panther Enterprises_

 “After _you_..” Hayley murmured in a sing-song voice after opening the door for him, she’d clearly been thoroughly entertained by his reactions.

As Harry made his way inside, the expansive office had briefly stolen his attention before his eyes were locking on the large desk at the far end of the room. It’d been situated in front of a glass wall which offered an impressive view of downtown London, blanketed in white from the consistent snowfall.

Brendon was seated at a comfortable-looking chair, a desk-phone brought to his ear as he flicked through a folder in front of him. He hadn’t looked up when Harry approached and Harry -- suddenly feeling nervous -- glanced behind him.

The door was shut and Hayley was already down the hall.

She apparently hadn’t intended on coming in _with_ him.

Unsure of what to do, Harry first looked around the room. A large bookcase extended towards the ceiling, lined with books and different medals and trophies. Several paintings decorated the wall along with certificates and a few pictures of Brendon with various important people.

It was hard to believe this was the man Harry had spent hours in bed with the previous night.

“Heard they gave you a bit of trouble..” Brendon’s voice pierced Harry’s thoughts and he turned away from a picture he’d been admiring to see the CEO coming out from behind his desk. “..downstairs.”

“Oh, no.” Harry shook his head for what felt like the hundredth time that day. The rigidness the CEO had been donning just a second ago while on the phone seemed to have vanished. He looked kinder.

More familiar.

“You never exactly told me how to get up here.” Harry added after a moment as Brendon stopped in front of him. Feeling it would be inappropriate to reach out and run his fingers over the businessman’s freshly-shaven cheek, Harry resorted to shoving his hands into the back pockets of his jeans. “Felt like Mission Impossible.”

“It’s not _that_ tough.”

“B.. there were, like, fifty security guards.” Harry told him, tone relaxing as the American’s lips pulled into a small smile. “How did the ones out front know who I was?” He asked once he realized he’d spent a little _too_ long staring.

“Tom drove you.” Brendon informed him. “He drives me every day.”

_Right._

Harry nodded, though his face began to warm up once he noticed Brendon’s eyes begin to wander down his figure.

The expression reminded him of last night.

“You look good.”

“Thanks. Hayley thought..” Harry shrugged sheepishly, though he couldn’t help the shy smile on his own features. “She fixed it for me. Apparently, school isn’t the only thing I’m rubbish at.”

“You’re not that bad of a student.”

“You were ready to throttle me during finals, B. I could tell.” Brendon wasn’t the most patient person around.

The CEO was smiling at this, though he didn’t respond.

“So, this is all yours?” Harry asked, semi-reluctantly stepping away from the twenty-seven-year-old so he could walk around the room and get a better look at things.

“This and a couple other places.”

“There’s _more_?” Harry paused in front of a certificate and turned around to face Brendon, eyebrows raised. The CEO had been watching him, though he hadn’t moved.

“Yeah, but I don’t own those entirely.” He explained. “This corporation’s completely mine, the other one I co-own with my brother and the third is a family business, so..” He shrugged, as if the topic was as tedious as the weather.

“Jesus..” Harry now understood what Brendon meant when he’d claim to _not have time._ “You’re incredible.. Honestly.”

“Not really.” Brendon shrugged at this as well. “It’s all I have.”

“That’s not true.” Harry was retorting, and he became painfully aware of how _far away_ they were from each other. Those glass doors had quickly become more of a hindrance than a cause for amazement in Harry’s eyes. “You have me.”

The silence that followed was thick.

Brendon hadn’t looked away from Harry who was staring determinedly back. He knew the statement was loaded. He knew the CEO didn’t appreciate conversations as heavy as this, but it had been hard to resist.

“Harry..” Brendon’s tone caused a flip in the pit of his stomach. Not the good kind.

“I know what you’re going to say.” Harry cut in before he could continue.

Before the excuses would start.

“I know what you’re thinking.” He continued. Though when it came to Brendon, it was hard to be entirely sure. “And I don’t care.” For some reason, the environment made him more daring, regardless of the fact that he was in _his_ office. “Brendon..”

“Harry, don’t-”

“I like you.” The three words felt heavy on his lips, but the admission felt like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. “B, I like you a lot. And I know you like me too.”

Though Brendon’s expression wasn’t one of resignation.. 

But annoyance.

“This isn’t really the time or place for this kind of conversation.”

“So when is? I’d love to know, because every attempt I’ve made at starting this, you’ve shot down.” Harry told him, desperately fighting the urge to approach him.

_They were so far away._

“Brendon, I’ve been kissing you for weeks and.. and call me crazy, but it feels different now. I can tell. You can’t deny it.”

“Harry-”

“And you’ve come over and you’ve met my family and-”

“Harry, _stop_.” His tone -- the authoritative one -- had finally come out. “This is not the time _nor_ the place for this conversation. I’m at work. I can’t deal with this right now.”

“Will you ever?” Harry pressed on, the condescending tone only irritating him further. “Because, listen-”

“No, _you listen_.” Brendon cut him off, taking a couple steps towards him. “I invited you up here for one reason and one reason only. Not to corner me like this-”

“ _No one’s_ around-”

 _“I don’t care!”_ It was the second time since they’d met that Brendon had raised his voice. The second time that he’d yelled. “I swear to god..” His fingers met his temple, anger clearly bubbled over. “You need to learn fucking boundaries, Harry. Seriously.”

This silenced him well enough.

“I fucking care about you, yes. I’m not denying it.” Brendon continued. “But this _prancing_ around you do, as if you’re entitled to certain things and the world’s your fucking stage.. It needs to stop. Because the world is a really fucking big place and you’ve barely seen a fraction of it--hell, you probably haven’t even left England!”

He hadn’t.

“I’m not saying being so fucking sensitive I have to _constantly_ walk on eggshells around you is a bad thing. I’m not. But you need to learn how to compromise. How to fucking understand limits, because right now? Right now I’m focused on numbers and the holiday and all the shit going on in America that I can’t deal with in person because I’m fucking _here_.”

Harry could feel his eyes begin to burn but he blinked the tears away. 

He wasn’t going to cry.

“I spent _all_ my free time I had yesterday with _you_. I went to your sisters fucking _birthday_ party, I’m consistently struggling to keep up with my workload _for you_. And you’re pissed because I won’t let you call me your _boyfriend_? Are you fucking serious?”

“Brendon..” Harry attempted to speak up. “I’m sorry-”

“No, I don’t want to hear it.” The finality in his tone shut Harry right back up. “I don’t have fucking time for this. I seriously don’t.”

“I didn’t realize-”

“No, you didn’t realize. You _never_ realize.” Brendon continued. “Part of me was hoping this visit would help you -- just -- _back off_ , but clearly it gave you the wrong idea.”

Harry swallowed thickly at this, a range of emotions on both sides of the spectrum making it difficult to find something to say.

Luckily -- or unluckily -- the phone on Brendon’s desk was going off and the CEO was forced to put his rant on hold. He was striding over and answering it within seconds and clearly whoever was on the other line had been of some importance, because soon Brendon was taking a seat, the rigidness cloaking the anger as if it’d never been there.

Then he was back to flipping through the same file he had been looking through when Harry entered initially.

Not wanting to linger, Harry turned on his heel and made his way out of the office, entering the expanse hallway which was occupied by a few people here and there.

Luckily, doors were well-labelled, because soon he was pushing his way into the bathroom. At any other time, he would’ve taken in all the luxury, but at the moment he was determined to find a stall.

And be alone.

After sitting on the seat and locking the door, he was burying his face in his hands.

Then the sobs came.

He did his best to muffle them with his hands and sincerely hoped no one was around because they were of the variety that was hard to control.

His whole body was shaking, the anxiety intensifying matters as he overthought certain key parts of Brendon’s ruthless rant. 

 _You_ **_never_ ** _realize._

_Back off._

_You’re pissed because I won’t let you call me your_ **_boyfriend_** _?_

The entire thing made him feel ridiculous.

After some time, the sound of the door opening was piercing his racing thoughts and Harry took a few deep breaths, hoping whoever just entered wouldn’t notice him.

That proceeded to happen for an indefinite amount of time.

The door would open, someone would find their home at the urinal, wash their hands, then leave.

Every now and again, two people would come across each other and engage in conversation, mostly relating to work, before they were making their leave.

It was just as it was getting to the point where Harry knew he couldn’t hide any longer that someone else was entering.

“Harry?” 

He didn’t need to peer through the crack in the stall door to see who it was.

“I’ll be out in a second.” He hated how thick his voice sounded. It was clear he’d been crying.

The whole argument only made him feel even more ridiculous for allowing it to happen.

 _I’m not saying being so fucking sensitive I have to_ **_constantly_ ** _walk on eggshells around you is a bad thing._

“I’ll wait for you.” Brendon was telling him from the other side of the stall door in a tone exceptionally more gentle than he had been twenty minutes ago.

“No, I’m alright.”

“Someone’s standing guard outside.” He informed him gently. “No one’s coming in.”

“I just want to be alone for a bit.” Harry told him stubbornly, doing his best not to allow his voice to crack violently.

“I realize that, but I have a meeting soon.. It kind of needs to happen now.”

_It kind of needs to happen now._

“Just go to your meeting.”

“I’d like to talk to you first.” Brendon’s tone was just as stubborn as Harry’s. “I’m waiting here till you come out. If you’d like to keep everyone in that room waiting, then by all means.. take your time.”

It was a dick move.

Harry wasn’t one to be rude to _others_ however, so he was standing up and wiping his eyes -- dreading looking at his own reflection -- before finally unlocking and opening the door.

Brendon’s eyes were kinder, the sort Harry was used to, which only made him feel worse about the whole thing.

“I’m sorry for yelling.”

“It’s fine.”

“No, it’s not.” Brendon told him gently. He was reaching out and tenderly taking Harry’s hand in his own, and had Harry not been itching for the slightest bit of contact that afternoon, he would’ve stubbornly pulled away.

Brendon led him towards a padded bench at the end of the room -- a ludicrous addition for a bathroom in Harry’s eyes, but he didn’t question it -- before sitting down. He patted the spot next to him and Harry obeyed, though he avoided the American’s gaze.

“I shouldn’t have raised my voice at you.” Brendon started. “I’ve just been really stressed lately.”

“It’s fine. I understand-”

“No, you don’t.” Brendon cut him off gently. “And I don’t mean to sound condescending. You don’t understand because I haven’t told you.” Then he sighed. “The negotiation in Auckland didn’t go well. It didn’t go well at all.”

This new tone -- the _sadness_ \-- was new to Harry, who finally met Brendon’s gaze. “What happened?”

“Basically..” Brendon clearly was trying to translate it into terms Harry would understand. “..we’ve been discussing terms with a giant over there and they’ve been really stubborn all year. I went there myself because I’m the best at getting agreements wrapped up, but..” He hesitated. “..in essence, we ended up losing a partner entirely. Which was kind of the worst-case scenario.”

“Oh.” Harry murmured, feeling entirely stupid about his _own_ struggles when it came to their situation. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine, it’s not a huge deal in the grand scheme of things, but Richard -- my father -- won’t be pleased to hear it.. once I let him know.”

It was the first time Brendon was mentioning more about his family than just their names. The curiosity that would’ve filled Harry at this new development was replaced with remorse. “I’m really sorry.”

“It’s fine.”

“I’m still sorry.” He reached out by then and gentle fingers were running down the CEO’s back before coming to rest at the shoulder farthest from him. “And I’m sorry for being.. A lot all the time.” His temple came to rest on Brendon’s shoulder affectionately, fingers still rubbing shapes into the material of his expensive button-down.

“Doesn’t mean it’s okay to raise my voice at you like that, I’m..” Brendon was murmuring. “I’m working on it. I’m just so used to resorting to.. yelling.”

“I know.” Harry lifted his head so he could meet Brendon’s gaze. “I’ll stop pushing you. I promise.”

“I’d appreciate that.”

Harry held his gaze following the American’s comment and for a moment neither of them said anything.

Then Brendon was leaning forward and brushing his lips against Harry’s.

The kiss was unexpected, but Harry wasn’t pulling away. Their lips moved against each other gently, and the relief that the argument hadn’t ended as _badly_ as last time washed over him. He wrapped his free arm around Brendon’s front, and he stole another peck just as the CEO was pulling away from the kiss before allowing his eyes to flutter open.

Brendon was watching him, gears turning in his mind, but Harry resisted the urge to comment on it, to ask _what_ he was thinking.

The question was being answered moments later anyway -- the CEO breaking the silence.

“I appreciate you.”

It was a statement Harry hadn’t been expecting. He didn’t know how to respond.

“You’re really kind and I'm pretty shit as a person a lot of the time-”

“You’re not.” Harry told him quietly.

“I am.” Brendon pressed on. “You’ve actually been super fucking patient and I appreciate it.”

“I’ve been pushy.”

“In some aspects, yeah.” The CEO agreed, nodding slightly. “In others.. no.” Then he leaned in for another kiss before adding, “I’m far from perfect.”

“Fortunately, that isn’t a must in my eyes..” Harry murmured against his lips and Brendon was smiling at this.

“Same here.”

Another silence settled though Harry didn’t look away. And though they’d cuddled before, the post-orgasm haze making the closeness easy, this time things seemed different.

The intimacy, more intense.

And Brendon wasn’t looking away, in fact, he was leaning in for yet _another_ kiss.

“You’re very..” Harry started and echoing Brendon’s previous words, lips curling into a small smile as the butterflies turned into fighter jets within his chest. “.. _touchy_ today.” 

“Fuck off.” The CEO was shooting back, though the smile hadn’t faltered. “Honestly just dreading this meeting.”

“What’s it about?”

“Couldn’t even tell you.”

Harry’s eyebrows furrowed at this, which only caused Brendon’s smile to grow.

He was pretty.

“So why d’you have to go?”

“Cause I’m in charge.” Brendon was shrugging. “And cause Benjamina told me to.”

“Who?”

“She’s an assistant.”

Harry was nodding at this. “Well.. don’t let me keep you.” In truth, he would’ve been more than happy with spending hours in that bathroom, as close to Brendon as he was. But the argument -- as harsh as it’d been -- was still weighing on his mind.

“Okay.”

They were standing at this, and Harry tugged up his jeans which had dropped slightly before meeting Brendon’s gaze. The CEO was smiling.

“What?”

“You seem so uncomfortable.”

“Skinny jeans are annoying.”

Brendon was chuckling. “Don’t let Hayley hear you say that..”

“Yeah, she’d probably throttle me.” Harry agreed, a smile plastered across his own features.

He decreased the distance between them, wrapping an arm around Brendon’s neck and another around his torso in a warm embrace.

If Harry was good at anything -- it was hugs.

Brendon reciprocated the motion, and the butterflies returned as he felt the CEO brush his lips against his earlobe affectionately.

Yeah, he was smitten.

For better or worse.

“Have fun. Don’t fire too many people.” Harry murmured into his neck, though he hadn’t made any attempts at letting go.

“Oh, wait.” Brendon had loosened his hold however, and Harry was finding out why moments later. “Here.”

He pulled a white envelope out of his back pocket and handed it to Harry.

It was thick.

And heavy.

“Shit, right.”

“Don’t look inside till you’re in the car.”

Harry didn’t doubt Brendon had taken the opportunity to give him _as much_ money as possible, and he did his best to remain nonchalant as he folded it and tucked it carefully into his own back pocket.

“I’ll message you tomorrow?” Brendon was breaking the silence moments later. “Sorry, I can’t make it to your shindig tonight.”

“Shindig?”

“Event. Whatever you Brits call it.” He corrected himself with a playful roll of the eyes.

Before he could respond, Brendon was placing a hand on the small of his back -- similarly to before -- and pulling him close.

Harry cradled the CEO’s face in his hands, meeting him halfway in the peck.

Unexpectedly, the American was deepening it. As a result, Harry couldn’t help but smile into the kiss.

And after a moment.. he could feel Brendon smiling too.


	17. Pink Matter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“Things could be different.” The twenty-year-old was whispering, as if afraid any disruption could ruin the moment. “If it mattered.”_
> 
> _But was different necessarily better?_

“..so if we move that meeting with the non-profit to _Friday_ then..”

The _‘ping!’_ on his phone went off and Brendon flickered his attention from his computer screen to his device.

It was Harry.

“..which would give you plenty of time to..”

_Harry: If youd rather do Wednesday or Thursday thats fine by me_

_Brendon: When do classes start for you?_

“..but it all depends on what you’re feeling.”

_‘Ping!’_

_Harry: Next monday. The 9th I think._

_Brendon: Tuesday might work better, honestly._  

“Brendon.” 

He looked up from his phone once directly addressed only to lock eyes with an annoyed Hayley, irritation littered on her features.

“Did you hear anything I just said?”

“Yes.” He lied, fixing his posture in his seat behind the large desk and adjusting his suit jacket.

“Okay, well, what were you thinking then?” Hayley unlocked her iPad, ready to record an email on the fly and it was only then that Brendon realized that he’d missed the entirety of the onslaught of information she just thrust on him.

It was the day after New Years. He’d given Hayley the previous day off due to the fact that practically no one in the office was working and he had no doubt in his mind she’d taken it to her advantage. She’d entered work that morning slightly irritable -- which was a rarity for her -- which only meant the hangover was still wearing off.

She was young.

“What were the options again?” He asked.

_‘Ping!’_

_Harry: Tmrw? U think?_

“Who are you messaging?” Before he could reply, Hayley was demanding his attention.

“No one.”

“Okay, well, we need to get them a response by noon, so we can work this into your schedule.”

“Okay.” Brendon murmured, though his eyes were back on his screen.

_Brendon: Yes. Six?_

“Brendon, I swear to god..”

_‘Ping!’_

_Harry: Actuallyyyyy got something lined up then.._

His eyebrows furrowed.

 _Harry: [ typing.. ]_  
_Kidding._  
_[ typing.. ]_  
_6 is perfect._

Then he was rolling his eyes.

“I snot in your coffee, is that alright?”

“Yeah.” Brendon murmured distractedly.

_Brendon: Tom will grab you a little after five._

“Is it Harry?”

“What?” Brendon was finally looking up from his phone only to meet Hayley’s steely glare.

“Who you’re messaging? Is it Harry?”

_‘Ping!’_

_Harry: Lovely. See you then xo_

“No.” Brendon lied, though he’d spent a few extra seconds eyeing the _‘xo’_ at the end of the message. 

The student did that a lot.

He didn’t _entirely_ hate it.

The days following his arrival in London from the brief trip to New Zealand had been hectic to say the least. He’d spent the first evening in Harry’s company, which had proved extremely effective when it came to distractions, though the following day he was coming to his senses.

Back to reality.

His father started calling him more often since then, the news hadn’t been taken lately -- as expected -- and Richard proceeded to check in every day. Though instead of asking _how_ his son was, he was asking how the Urie reputation was holding up.

It was exhausting work.

His only saving grace these days seemed to be the college student -- not that Harry realized this -- but their brief IM conversations served as the only escape he had from his current reality, which was becoming more and more controlled by his icy, rigid father.

Brendon wasn’t used to it. He wasn’t accustomed to having someone always _there_ for him who wasn’t on his payroll. It’d hit him the most the afternoon of their last argument, when he’d unintentionally blown up at the twenty-year-old and left him in tears.

What was said had always been on his mind, though how he’d ended up relaying those thoughts had been less than satisfactory. Needless to say, when he’d gotten off the phone with his father -- who had been on the other line when Harry arrived -- the guilt and shame was quick to corner him.

So he apologized.

He hadn’t expected Harry to forgive him so readily, and the moment of vulnerability that followed -- which normally would’ve caused extreme anxiety -- ended up being extremely comforting. 

He’d felt somewhat better afterwards, which was a first.

And although Harry knew next to nothing about business and the ins-and-outs, the simple _‘I’m sorry’_ had done wonders. His presence had been enough. And for the first time ever..

Brendon didn’t mind someone being there.

He didn’t mind _Harry_ being there.

 _“Happy birthday!”_ Harry was uttering in a sing-song voice as soon as the elevator doors were opening. He’d arrived at six sharp that following evening whilst Brendon was in the midst of fixing himself another cup of coffee -- he wasn’t sure what number this would make it.

His fifth? Sixth?

“Twenty-eight! How’s it feel?” Harry made his way over and the tip of his nose felt cold against Brendon’s skin as the student pressed a gentle kiss on his cheek. Then his gaze was flickering to the mug in Brendon’s grip. “Coffee this late?” He commented as he stripped out of his winter coat, leaving it on the hook and revealing he was dressed as comfortably as possible.

Brendon didn’t realize the student still had his joggers.

Though he didn’t mind too much either. “Yeah.. busy day.” Brendon murmured as he added a few cubes of sugar.

“Trying to stroke out, eh?” Harry approached, leaning on the counter beside Brendon and eyeing his movements.

“I always add this much sugar." 

“Really?” The twenty-year-old’s eyebrows were raising at this, though he looked more concerned than amused. “That’s awful for your heart.”

“Didn’t realize you were on the fast-track to med school, H.”

“Just concerned, that’s all.”

Instead of responding, Brendon brought the cup to his lips. Normally, that sort of comment would’ve irritated him, not at all accustomed to being told what to do.

Though Harry wasn’t exactly telling him, was he?

“How’s the situation?” The student went on, attention flickering towards Milo who’d left his perch in front of the terrace door so he could demand Harry’s attention. The feline had grown extremely fond of him in a short amount of time. “With your dad?" 

“Oh, um..” Brendon shrugged, not that Harry could see, the student had scooped Milo into his arms and placed a kiss on top of his ginger head. “..it’s fine.”

 _Fine_ was an exaggeration.

“Richard only implied I was a failure without outright saying it, so he doesn’t seem too mad.” He added sarcastically, and Harry was meeting his gaze.

“That’s horrible.” His voice was gentle.

“It’s Richard.” Brendon reassured him, more than used to the verbal abuse.

“Parents suck.” Harry commented regardless, moving his head to give Milo ample room to climb onto his shoulders.

“Yeah?” Brendon wasn’t agreeing, merely opening up to a question he hadn’t bothered asking till just then: “What happened with yours?”

Harry had briefly brought up the topic of his parents during the argument that ensued the morning of Les Mis the previous month, but Brendon hadn’t gone into things, unwilling to pry. Times seemed different now and the student seemed to be in a cheerful mood, so he felt it wouldn’t be disastrous to bring it up.

A slight frown littered Harry’s features, but he was responding nonetheless. “Drugs.” Milo had started to attempt to climb onto his _head_ now, so Harry reached up and pried the cat off and back into his arms. “They, uh..” He seemed to be choosing his words carefully. “..got into it at a young age and never stopped.”

That was depressing.

“Oh.” Brendon wasn’t sure how to respond.

“Yeah, it’s not a big deal. I mean, they’ll occasionally come ‘round and pretend to care, but..” Another shrug. “..they always leave in the end.”

Brendon had always assumed the student’s parents weren’t good people. What he hadn’t expected, however, was how _affected_ he’d be from the slight confession. He’d always been protective of Harry, this was true, what he wasn’t prepared for was the painful yanking that’d ensued in the pit of his chest from this simple confession. 

He’d met the Styles family. They didn’t deserve that.

Those kids -- no matter how different -- in essence, were good people. Considering he and his siblings had been handed anything and everything since birth, he couldn’t even begin to fathom the struggles those kids had to face.

“No need to look at me like _that_.” Harry murmured after a moment, making Brendon realize that he’d been staring. “Like I’m some sort of.. charity case.” The Brit didn’t seem annoyed however which was a relief.

“I’m sorry.” Brendon apologized, he was placing his mug on the marble counter now and slowly approached the student whose attention had now completely shifted onto him.

Harry did that a lot.

He still hadn’t gotten control of his expressive nature, so whenever the twenty-year-old sensed the atmosphere becoming _more_ , his focus would zero in on Brendon. Not that he minded, Brendon wasn’t the type to fight for the floor, it generally was always given to him. 

“It’s just a shitty thing for someone to do..” He continued, pausing in front of the Brit who was still cradling Milo in his arms. “..especially a parent.” He reached out, fingertips just barely brushing over a sharp jawline and Harry didn’t hesitate to lean into it, luxuriating in even the tiny amount of contact.

The Brit had only shrugged in response to the statement however, as if resigned to the fact that that was how his life was meant to be and it stirred something in Brendon. 

Enough for him to speak up again.

“You’re a really strong person.” He wasn’t sure what the cause of this bout of honesty was. The past few weeks had been an active time for the more emotional side of him which, prior to then, had _very_ rarely been accessed.

“I just do what needs to be done-”

“No, Harry.” Brendon was cutting him off with a shake of the head. “You’ve gone above and beyond and.. I respect you immensely for that.”

And respect from Brendon was hard to earn.

Harry held his gaze as he said this, there was an intensity there Brendon hadn’t seen before. Then he was placing Milo down on the counter and taking the half-step nearer needed to reach out and cradle his face, so he could pull him close for a kiss. 

It was different.

It was gentle and measured and careful. They’d shared softer and slower kisses before, but somehow, the way their lips were moving against each other was different this time.

As if they were exchanging an especially sensitive secret no one else would ever had the privilege of knowing.

And strangely enough.. it made Brendon want to kiss him more.

Though not with the intention of getting the oversized hoodie and stolen joggers off his body, but because he was _enjoying_ it.

Enjoying being close to him like this.

His hands had first found the island on either side of the student before he was running his fingers down Harry’s thighs and hoisting him onto it.

They’d parted lips for a moment, the Brit pulling away either for a breath or to eye him before he was leaning back in for more.

Harry’s taste reminded him of tea -- it always did, and he felt soft, and smelled like cherry blossom and raspberry sorbet and it was _calming_ and _familiar_ and far more comforting than the luxurious penthouse had ever been in his five years as a resident.

“B..”

“Hm?”

“Hey..” Harry’s arms had wormed around his neck over the course of however long they’d been tightly wound around each other, but then a gentle hand was at Brendon’s jaw, barring him from leaning in and stealing another kiss.

“What is it?”

“Your phone, love.”

It’d taken Brendon a moment to catch on, the monotonic yet highly irritating ringtone permeating his thoughts which had previously consisted of _Harry_ and _Harry’s lips_ and _Harry’s tongue_.

He was recovering quickly, eyes flickering to the illuminated device on the other side of the island and he reluctantly shifted from his settled position between the twenty-year-old’s swinging legs to see who’d been bold enough to interrupt the heated moment.

_Hayley K._

He eyed the contact name for a moment, device in hand, and seriously debated tapping the green button before he was hitting the red and placing the iPhone back down.

Harry had looked back up from Milo as he was approached, surprise etched across his soft features. “Aren’t you gonna get that?”

“It’s not important.” Strong hands found Harry’s thighs as he resettled himself in between and the surprise on Harry’s features was morphing into a smile -- quite a big one, at that.

“You sure?”

“I’m sure.”

Harry’s hands had found Brendon’s shoulders and he gave them an affectionate squeeze before cradling his face once again. “Okay..” He was whispering before he was erasing the distance between them once again.

Brendon had been expecting a kiss, though the Brit clearly had different things on his mind. His lips rerouted their path at the last second, meeting his jaw and he made gentle contact there before turning his head and placing a second kiss on the opposite side.

Emerald eyes then met brown as Harry leaned forward, placing a subsequent peck on the tip of his nose before his lips curled into that signature smile.

He was gorgeous.

“You’re so handsome.” Harry was muttering against his lips before sealing the statement with a kiss.

“You think so?”

“I know so.”

Brendon couldn’t help but grin at this. It wasn’t as if he didn’t already _know_ he was attractive, though receiving the statement from Harry seemed to be an award of its own. He wasn’t entirely sure why.

“You’re pretty too.”

“Just pretty?” Harry broke the playful dance their lips were doing to meet Brendon’s gaze. He was still smiling. “Couldn’t just meet me halfway? You fucking arse.”

“I’d be doing myself a disservice, hun.” He shot back lightheartedly, earning him a gentle shove, although Harry was laughing. “Always gotta have the upper hand.”

“You always have.” The Brit murmured, to Brendon’s slight surprise. Bright, forest eyes were scanning his features as a finger thumbed at Brendon’s lip. “And you probably always will.” 

His stomach flipped uncomfortably at this, though not in an entirely bad way. “I was just joking, H..”

“I know.” Harry nodded at this and a lock of hair wandered between his eyes from the movement. Brendon reached outwards and pushed it back, the student was leaning into the touch. 

It was strange, how open the Brit was all the time. At first, Brendon had seen it as a weakness, though he couldn’t decide how he felt about it now.

“What are you thinking about?” Harry broke the silence, eyes scanning Brendon’s features with that same innocent curiosity.

“Hm?”

“You seem..” The uni student was clearly choosing his words carefully. “..distracted tonight.”

Brendon shrugged at this, not feeling entirely inclined to voice _these_ thoughts specifically. It wasn’t as if he was against being vulnerable in front of the Brit, it had been the mere thoughts themselves he wasn’t enthusiastic about sharing.

“You’re just..” He began _slightly_ timidly. “..different.”

“Different?”

“Like, open.” Brendon expanded, and holding that emerald gaze became more difficult. “Was it like that before? With Lily?”

At first, Harry’s eyebrows furrowed in slight confusion, but soon they were softening. “I mean, yeah.” He murmured gently. “We told each other everything.”

_“Everything?”_

“Pretty much.” Harry shrugged, his fingers had wandered towards the back of Brendon’s neck and he was playing with the short hair there.

It was soothing.

“That’s a bit invasive.”

“I can see how you’d think that.” Harry responded patiently.

“But you didn’t think it was?”

“Not at all.”

“Not clingy either?”

“I mean..” Harry gaze flickered upwards at this, he was clearly thinking hard. “When you’re with someone -- like _that_ \-- you sort of want to, you know?” He didn’t. Luckily, Harry was elaborating. “When it comes to relationships -- at least in my experience -- we’ve always been super open with each other. Having someone there that you can count on can take a massive weight off your shoulders. It’s, like, the best kind of security blanket.”

Brendon wasn’t convinced.

“You don’t agree?” Harry asked, reading his expression accurately.

“Not entirely..”

“How come?”

“It just doesn’t seem reliable.” Brendon murmured, his fingers were now fidgeting with a loose string on Harry’s joggers. “Especially considering they’ll ultimately end up leaving.”

“Well.. of course, that’s a factor you have to take into account.” Harry told him gently. “But that’s the price you have to pay.”

“Seems like a pretty big price.”

“It’s love, B.” As Harry said this, Brendon’s eyes were flickering up from those dark joggers to meet the student’s gaze. “It hurts, but it’s worth it.”

“Doesn’t seem like it.”

“That’s because you’ve never experienced it before, love. But I’m sure, one day, if _anyone ever_ worms their way in here..” His fingers had wandered towards Brendon’s chest and he was poking gently at his ribcage. “..you’ll get it.”

 It was strange. A couple of months ago, Brendon hadn’t expected to see the college student past that initial meeting, the risqué photos endless people in a neighboring country were undoubtedly benefiting from.

There was some guilt there as well. The fact that he’d intentionally exploited an _extremely young_ adult because of an idiotic agreement he’d made while under pressure during his own university years. Of all people, Harry hadn’t deserved that. He hadn’t deserved Brendon’s judgment and iciness, especially considering _he’d_ been in the position of vulnerability since the very beginning.

“Yo’right?”

“Hm?”

“Are you alright?” Harry articulated, making him easier to understand.

“Yeah, I’m okay.” Brendon lied. “Just have a lot on my mind.” That was true.

“Okay.” Harry’s hands had found his biceps which he’d given a firm squeeze before allowing his fingers to run down the length of his arms, lingering at his wrists. “Can I hold your hand?”

“Uh.. sure.”

Harry’s digits tucked under Brendon’s palm at this, which had been resting at the Brit’s hips, and the fingers of his right hand filled the spaces in Brendon’s left. It was then that he noticed the ring on the student’s index finger, and curiosity found him before reason could.

“Big into accessories?”

“Not really.” Harry murmured, following Brendon’s gaze and eyeing the silver band wrapped snugly around his forefinger. “My mate made it for me for my birthday.”

“A ring?”

“Well-” Harry began, loosening his hold on Brendon’s hand, and the slight disappointment that filled him from the break of contact surprised even _him_. “-this symbol here..” The Brit was turning the band until a tiny design was hitting the light. An _‘xo’_ was engraved into the metal. “..is the title of one of my favorite songs by this artist I really like.”

“Who?”

“You probably don’t..” Harry shook his head at first before answering anyway, “EDEN’s what he’s called--don’t reckon it’s his actual name, not sure--but, um, he’s an Irish musician. Alfie actually introduced me to him this past summer.”

“Alfie’s your friend?”

“Yeah.” Harry nodded. “He was at the party, actually. Gemma’s. You might’ve bumped into him. Tall bloke.”

“Dirty blonde?”

“Brunette, actually.”

“He was the super loud one, wasn’t he?” At the brief description, the night of the party was floating to the forefront of Brendon’s mind. He’d remembered the obnoxious male that’d spent far more energy than necessary hyping up the twenty-year-old.

Harry was smiling at this. “Yeah.. that’s Alf.” He had a far away look in his eyes, as if reliving a particularly pleasant memory.

A surge of annoyance coursed through him.

“You two been friends long?” Brendon shifted his attention to the cup of coffee he’d abandoned, fingering at the mug, though Harry’s thighs still had him buckled in place.

“Sort of.”

“Sort of?”

“We met when I was thirteen-ish, but we didn’t become close till a couple years later.” Harry murmured, and Brendon could feel his eyes on him, but he kept his gaze on his coffee.

“Close as in..?”

“What d’you mean?”

“Like _just_ friends?”

There was a slight pause, and at this, Brendon finally shifted his eyes back to Harry who seemed to be mulling something over. “Yeah.” He’d finally answered after a few beats.

Brendon wasn’t convinced. “You don’t seem super sure.”

“I mean..” The confidence didn’t return. “..we’re _just_ friends, but like..” He shrugged.

“Like what?” Brendon pushed, not caring how nosey he was coming off as. He needed to know.

Harry seemed to shy under his intense gaze. “There are times where, like, we’ll.. _you know_.”

“No, I don’t know.” Brendon responded icily back, ignoring the uncomfortable sinking in his own stomach.

Harry’s cheeks tinted slightly at this. “Like, if we’re both pissed at a party, you know..” He shrugged. “..we’ll disappear for a while.”

_Disappear for a while._

Then he was thinking of the birthday party. He hadn’t been able to spot Harry for some time at one point. “Did that happen at Gemma’s?”

“Did what-?”

“You know what I mean.” Brendon cut him off. He’d stopped fidgeting with his coffee mug by then. “Is that who gave you that hickey?”

“Uh..” The length in which Harry was taking to answer these questions only irritated Brendon further, but he shoved it down. “..yeah.”

“I thought you said I was your last.” Brendon murmured, a rigidness he couldn’t control laced in his tone.

“You were.” Harry murmured gently, catching on.

“But this guy-”

“We didn’t have sex, Brendon.”

“Oh, pardon me.” He retorted, sarcasm seeping between every syllable. “For not specifying.”

“Why are you so bothered by this?” Harry asked, eyeing him carefully.

“How far did you go?”

“What?”

“At the party.” Brendon powered on, ignoring the previous question. “How far did you-”

“That’s not really any of your business.” He wasn’t angry, though by the slight attitude in his tone, Brendon could tell he was starting to get annoyed.

“It kind of is if you lied to me.” 

“Brendon..” Harry scoffed, disbelief etched on his features. “..I didn’t _lie_ to you.”

“Whatever.” He was shaking his head at this, dropping the topic as quickly as he’d brought it up.

Like thick maple syrup, the irritation seemed to stick. Coating his insides and setting them on fire at the thought of that _guy_ having his _hands_ all over _Harry_.

Brendon would attribute it to his protectiveness.

“I don’t want to fight with you.” Harry pulled Brendon from his thoughts and he met his gaze. “Can we just talk about something else?”

“Yeah.” He murmured, though his mind still hadn’t shifted from the topic.

_That’s not really any of your business._

But it was. He wanted it to be.

“We should do something, like, official for your birthday.” Harry suggested, clearly trying to shift the subject off his own misadventures. “Are you busy tomorrow night?”

“Kind of, yeah.” Though Brendon wasn’t sure whether that was because of work or this new discovery he’d just made when it came to the student’s sex life.

“Okay.. um.. What about the day after?”

“What would you even want to do?” Brendon had to put immense effort in ensuring his tone remained as neutral as possible.

At this Harry was shrugging. “I could come up with something. Maybe bake a couple cupcakes since you’re not into normal cake.”

Brendon wasn’t really into cakes in _general_ , but he decided against shooting the idea down. Gentle fingers had found his opposite hand midst these thoughts and soon Harry was filling the gaps once again, though this time there was no ring to focus on.

“Please don’t be mad.”

“I’m not mad.”

“I don’t like him like that.” Harry reassured him in a gentle voice. “Like I like you.”

This was sincerely hard to believe considering the twenty-year-old seemed to make his way through life with his heart so far down his sleeve it was a surprise he had any love left to give.

“Doesn’t really matter..” Brendon still outright rejected this idea, as if it was the most ludicrous thing in the world. He ignored the noticeable spike his heart had taken, each beat quickening as the conversation went on.

“It doesn’t?”

There it was.

Another opening.

It was clear Harry was thinking the same exact thing and as Brendon held his gaze, those emerald eyes seemed to be on fire. It was annoying -- how they glimmered even in dim lighting.

“Even if it did..” Brendon’s tone was gentle, unsure. Harry was still watching him with that same intensity which only made things more difficult to acknowledge. A gentle thumb ran over his own, and it was then that he realized the student was still clutching his hand.

“Things could be different.” The twenty-year-old was whispering, as if afraid any disruption could ruin the moment. “If it mattered.”

But was different necessarily better?

“I’m not good at this.” 

“That’s okay.”

“It wouldn’t be fair to you.” Brendon told him, honesty seeping between every syllable. “The way you describe this kind of stuff.. I couldn’t give any of that to you.”

“And how d’you know that?” Harry asked, watching him carefully. “If you’ve never even tried?”

“I’m not sure I _could_ try.”

“Brendon..” Harry began, clearly flustered. “..I bet you were the type of bloke in school who was perfect at everything they took a whack at.”

“But that’s different.” Brendon retorted. “That’s school. That was easy.”

“So what if you’re not perfect?” Harry shrugged. “You don’t need to be.”

“I just don’t want to end up hurting you.”

“A bit too late for that one...” Harry murmured in a gentler tone. Then he was reaching out with his free hand and tracing over Brendon’s jawline before cupping his cheek. “We don’t have to jump into anything, love. We can just.. test the waters.”

“And what does that pertain?” Brendon asked, better at the _terms and conditions_ part than the actual _romance_.

“Like..” Harry paused, mulling it over. “We don’t have to label things. We can just, like, go on dates.. Hang out when you’re _not_ working.. You can tell me about you -- like _you_ , you -- not hot-shot, CEO Brendon. You can let me celebrate your birthday. Just, like.. spend time together. We don’t even need to go out or anything.” He was shrugging. “I just like hanging out with you.”

Brendon wasn’t sure why. He wasn’t a particularly interesting person.

“How’s that sound?” Harry asked after a moment, his fingers were now running through Brendon’s hair.

“Not sure about the ‘dates’ part, but everything else seems simple enough.”

“Haven’t you gone on dates?”

“I have.” Brendon nodded. “They weren’t very exciting.”

“Well, what d’you do?”

He had to think about this one. “Dinner.. movie.. We’d usually sat in the very back.” Then things would get steamy.

Harry clearly caught onto this and was rolling his eyes. “We’d definitely do something more interesting.”

“Like?”

At this, Harry was thinking once again. Milo had wandered back over, head rubbing affectionately against his thigh. “Bowling's fun, yeah? Ever go?” He asked, shifting from playing with Brendon’s hair so he could pet the feline.

“I’m alright at it.” In truth, Brendon hadn’t gone bowling since he used to live with his family. Richard would frequently invite business partners over to their Oyster Bay mansion for weekends and the entire family would have to put on the illusion that they were _normal_.

Isaac would woo them with his unnatural level of knowledge and plethora of medals. Elizabeth would fawn over her mother and father and Brendon -- the middle child -- would fill in the gaps. In most cases, be forced to express his undying admiration for the leading men in the house.

He had an average relationship with Isaac, they’d text on occasion. Elizabeth was the one who put most effort in keeping everyone connected, and it was for her and her alone Brendon would return home once or twice a year to ‘catch up’ -- aka receive verbal abuse from his father, though in these cases, _in person_.

“Brilliant. Bowling it is.” Harry was tugging him back to the present, the Brit seemed utterly delighted with the idea which was the only reason Brendon found himself going along with it. “When are you free?”

However, he didn’t realize they’d be penciling it in _right now_.

“We probably should choose a weekday since weekends are insane.” Harry added before Brendon could give his two cents.

“Alright, well-”

“Plus, I start classes next week.” Harry cut in. “So..”

“So.. this week?” Brendon asked, eyeing the Brit’s guilty grin with a slightly amused expression. “Thursday okay?”

At this, Harry was nodding vigorously, and it was difficult not to laugh at his excitement. “Thursday’s perfect.”

Brendon couldn’t control his own smile, the innocence of it all extremely endearing. “It’s a date.”


	18. Striking Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _The silence had stretched so long Harry was convinced he’d hated it. He hated it and was grappling for an acceptable way of letting him down-_
> 
> _“This is beautiful.”_

_It’s a date._

Those same words seemed to be put on replay from the minute they’d left Brendon’s lips.

Harry wasn’t sure whether the CEO had said it intentionally or not, but for the next forty-eight hours, he hadn’t been able to focus on much else. Though, of course, a large part of this was due to the fact that he was spending every ounce of free time he had on the American’s birthday gift.

Though the day had passed, the fact that Brendon hadn’t revealed to him that his birthday had been coming up till the _very last_ minute, Harry had been forced to go into overdrive. After confirming the idea with several people -- Hayley most of all, who he’d asked upon leaving their workplace New Years Eve -- he’d started the tedious task.

Not that drawing Brendon could be considered _tedious_ , but considering Harry was very aware of the CEO’s hypercritical nature, he wanted to make sure the picture came out alright.

He’d used the canvas and tools the American himself had gifted him on Christmas which speeded things up effectively. After paving off an area in the house and excessively threatening his siblings into _not_ treading there, he’d spent practically every waking moment sketching away.

With Hayley’s help, he’d acquired a photo of the twenty-eight-year-old for reference and with the picture and _lots_ of memory, he’d managed to illustrate his interpretation of the American.

As he finished the bare sketch, he realized how _intimate_ it had come out.

Brendon was in bed. Being that this was the only time Harry ever had the chance to see the CEO _close up_ , it’d seemed logical. 

The hair had been the easiest and hardest part, considering Harry was constantly fidgeting with it, he knew what he _wanted_ it to look like, though copying it down had taken an impressive amount of time. First was the matter of getting the shape correct. Several times Harry had accidentally given the American an incredible amount of bedhead which he was sure Brendon wouldn’t appreciate, especially when the raven locks were so well-groomed, they very rarely looked as bad as _Harry’s_ generally got after a night of sexual activity.

His bone structure hadn’t been too difficult -- his face was so symmetrical it was concerning. This also inspired a new curiosity in Harry, who was very inclined to see a photo of the businessman’s parents. The genetics in the family had to be strong.

Then there were the eyes. Harry had stared into them countless amounts of times, so he _knew_ when he’d copied them down incorrectly. They were big, and the irises were a deep chocolate brown which would sometimes glimmer under direct sunlight.

“You look _cute_.”

“Okay, but do I look hot?”

“Not sure I can answer that, H.” Gemma licked over her spoon which was covered in ice cream. “You look good.”

“That’s not.. good _enough_.” Harry murmured, nervously eyeing the outfit he’d picked out from his honorary closet in Brendon’s home before he’d left two days prior. It was another button down, though this time short sleeved. The colors were bold, a multitude thrown together and he combatted the burst of red and blue and green with jet-black jeans. 

“Why are you so nervous? It’s not like you’re meeting him for the first time.” Gemma asked, handing her spoon over to a whining Emmy who’d been sharing the pint with her sister. Some reality show was on the tv and Matty was settled on the recliner, a gaming device in hand and attention zeroed in on the small screen.

“I just want to look alright.”

“You look alright.” She confirmed, and before he could find any more to complain about, the doorbell was going off.

“Fuck, I didn’t realize the time!” Harry glanced at his beaten down watch, it read seven o’clock on the dot.

Brendon was as prompt as ever.

“Where’s his gift? Did I set it down?”

“It’s on the table, H.” Gemma barely got the words out before the Brit was leaping over the couch and grabbing the present off the table. It had been concealed with wrapping paper from Christmas, endless smiling snowmen peering at him menacingly -- or perhaps he was just nervous. “H! Slow down!”

He was ignoring Gemma’s words, leaping back over the couch and barely missing his sisters as he bolted to the door. A burst of wintery air made its way in as he yanked it open and he was greeted by the businessman, a small smile dancing on his lips.

Handsome as ever.

“Hi.” Harry exhaled breathlessly, partially because he was recovering from the brief workout and partially because he was _smitten_.

“Hey. Ready to go?” Brendon asked politely, then his gaze was flickering to the gift in Harry’s arms.

“Yeah.”

“Need a coat?” Harry had taken a step across the threshold just as Brendon was speaking up again, and it was then that he realized he was _freezing_.

Right.

“Right! Of course. One sec..” He retreated back into the house, hastily placing the present down on the small table so he could pluck the peacoat off the coat rack and slip it on. When he was emerging from the house again, Brendon was smiling.

“You seem more prepared now.”

“I am, yeah.” Harry murmured. He could feel his face begin to grow hot. “And I’m warm, so that’s good.”

“Great.”

He was surprised to see Brendon get into the driver’s seat but didn’t comment on it, merely slipping into the passenger’s side and clicking on the seatbelt. He wasn’t speaking up till the CEO had pulled out of the driveway. “I got you something.”

“I noticed.”

“You don’t have to open it now or anything.” Harry murmured, doing his best not to stare for _too_ long every time he’d glance at the American.

He wasn’t sure what it was but something about the businessman seemed different. Perhaps it was the fact that they had met under the pretense of going on a _date_ , but the twenty-eight-year-old seemed even more irresistible than usual.

“Enjoying your last few free days?” Brendon asked as they neared downtown London, eyes fixed on the road.

“Yeah, yeah.” Harry murmured untruthfully, not at all inclined to share the fact that he’d spent all his free time the past few days working on a portrait of the man _sitting next to him_.

“How’s your workload this semester? Better? Worse?”

“Worse.” He murmured, the realization dawning on him the more he spoke. “Don’t have art, so I’m picking up a physics course, which will be _fun_.” Sarcasm seeped from his tone and Brendon picked it up straight away, a small smile creeping up his lips.

“Physics is fun.”

“For _you_.” Harry shot at him, his hand had come to settle under his chin, elbow resting on the seat divider. “I’m rubbish at maths, so this’ll be a nightmare.”

“Well, what part of math do you struggle with?”

Harry stole a glance as Brendon switched lanes. “Everything.”

Then the American was laughing. 

 _God_ , he was pretty.

“Why not try tutoring?”

“D’you really think I’m capable of being tutored?” Harry asked, eyebrows raised. “You were ready to throttle me.”

“Well, you kind of have to pass, don’t you?” Brendon asked, stealing a glance as they reached a red light. His eyes had subtly wandered to Harry’s lips which stirred something in the Brit. If only they could pull over.. “It’ll suck for a bit, but once you get the hang of it, it’ll be a breeze.” 

“Yeah, I suppose.” Harry agreed, eyes still fixed on the businessman as he looked back to the road. “Already can’t wait for summer..”

“Only two more years after that. You can do it, bud.” Although _bud_ wasn’t exactly the most affectionate of pet names, it still did the trick, Harry’s stomach flipping as he registered it. “Oh, this isn’t too far from home..” As Brendon murmured this, Harry finally tore his gaze away from the CEO only to notice that they’d arrived.

He found a decent parking spot and was turning off the ignition when Harry decided to speak up. “Did you want to open this now or later?” The present was still on his lap, he’d been too nervous to place it anywhere else.

“Um..” Brendon seemed to only just remember it was there. “..doesn’t matter. We can do it now if you really want?”

“Do _you_ want to?”

“I mean..” Brendon shrugged, clearly indifferent. “Sure. Why not.”

It was only as Harry was handing over the present that he realized how disastrously the rest of the night could go down if Brendon didn’t end up liking it. It was too late to go back, however, the CEO had already began tearing at the wrapping paper.

“Is it..? Oh.” Brendon’s eyebrows had furrowed in confusion at first, unsure of where the photo was due to the fact that their only source of light was coming from the neon lighting on the front of the building, but then he was catching on.

As he leaned the framed portrait on the steering wheel to get a better look, things went quiet, Harry was sure the sound of his heart hammering against his rib cage could be heard. He swallowed thickly as he watched Brendon’s reaction with bated breath.

It had been a drawing of the CEO in bed, yes. Brendon’s attention had been directed at the viewer, eyes sleepy but content. Wisps and locks of hair framed his face and Harry had even included the slit in his eyebrow, one of his favorite parts of the American, if he was being perfectly honest. The portrait ended just below the collarbone, and he’d colored it in, in hopes of bringing it to life.

The silence had stretched so long Harry was convinced he’d hated it. He hated it and was grappling for an acceptable way of letting him down-

“This is beautiful.”

Harry hadn’t realized he’d been holding his breath until Brendon finally spoke up, and the words that’d left his lips had surprised _even him_. “You.. You think so?” Thanks to the neon sign for the bowling alley, Brendon’s features were illuminated, though he could’ve sworn it was causing tricks.

Because Brendon’s eyes looked glazed over.

“You have a gift.” The CEO was finally looking up from the portrait and met Harry’s gaze. They _were_ glazed over. “No, seriously. This is..” He shook his head before looking back down at it. “You _drew_ this?”

“Yeah.” Harry was sure his face was brick red at this point and was sincerely grateful there wasn’t sufficient lighting in that car.

“This is..” Brendon nodded, clearly at a loss for words. “This is, like, the best birthday gift I’ve ever received.” Harry was sure someone had set off fighter jets in his stomach at that point, the butterflies were zooming to-and-fro. “Thank you.”

“You’re very welcome.” Harry retorted, doing his best to keep his voice from shaking.

Brendon still hadn’t looked away from the picture, but then the sound of excited voices passing their car seemed to have tugged him back to reality. A group of people had just left the alley. “Oh, we should probably head in.”

It was hard to concentrate.

As they got through the logistics of acquiring shoes and finding their lane, Brendon seemed to be watching him with new fervor. Harry was aware of sex eyes, he’d been on both the giving and receiving end several times in his life. Brendon, however, seemed to take it to a whole new level.

As if Harry was purely and utterly _fuckable_.

It made menial tasks extremely difficult.

He’d looked up from tying his shoes to find Brendon had been watching him, though he didn’t seem to bother to hide the fact that his eyes had wandered down the length of his body as Harry shifted seats so he’d be closer to the control panel.

“What am I putting down for your name?”

“My _name_ would work.” Brendon murmured, sass laced in his tone.

“I mean, _yeah_.” Harry agreed, a grin dancing on his lips. “Not all the letters will fit though. Are you alright with it cutting off?”

Brendon shrugged. “It’s not the end of the world.”

“ _Brend_ seems awkward though.” Then Harry was thinking.

“What are you doing? That’s definitely not my name.”

“Yeah, well, Emmy seems to think so.”

“You’re not putting that up there-”

“Too late.” Harry hit enter before Brendon could reach over and change things, and the American was shooting him a steely glare. The music started playing and pins set up just as their score screen was popping up.

_Harry v. Beebo_

“You’re the actual worst.”

“It’s _cute_.”

“You mean humiliating.”

Harry was up first and he picked up a pink bowling ball as he stood. “Just so you know, I’m complete rubbish at this.” 

“Why’d you pick it then?” Brendon asked from his lounged position on the seat.

“Figured we could suck together.” Harry glanced back at him to say. This had been a bad idea. Brendon had removed his coat, revealing a pure-white, short-sleeved button down, complemented by dark jeans. 

He was gorgeous.

“Suck away.” Brendon murmured, a hint of a smile on his lips.

Harry reluctantly turned away, looking back to the pins and suddenly became self-conscious. He was _really_ bad at bowling. He’d gone with friends several times but on those nights they were always drunk, and as a result, they _all_ had done terribly.

Shoving this thought down, Harry approached the edge of the lane as he brought the ball back and released it. It rolled down the center.. Before slowly veering to the left.. And as it approached the pins.. It sunk into the gutter.

He hadn’t even hit one.

The shame washing over him, he turned around, preparing himself for Brendon’s expression. The American had a clenched fist shielding his lips, amusement clear as day on his features.

“See? I told you.” Harry murmured in defeat as he sunk into his seat.

“You definitely weren’t lying.” Brendon agreed as he stood, and Harry was silently grateful he hadn’t laughed. “I’m a little rusty as well.” He murmured as he chose a black bowling ball and waited for the pins to set up.

Harry took the opportunity to let his eyes wander downwards, drinking in the CEO’s lithe figure and how _snugly_ the denim hugged his legs.

He’d been so distracted, he hadn’t realized Brendon had released the ball, and it was as he was flickering his attention to the lane that he noticed the ball head straight.. And keep going straight.. Directly at the center pin..

_'Strike!’_

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Harry murmured as Brendon turned around, a hint of smugness on his features. “You could’ve at least _pretended_ to be bad at this.”

“But that’d be doing me a major disservice, hun.” Brendon murmured as he took his seat next to Harry who shoved him immediately. “That was mostly luck.”

“Bullshite.”

The rest of the night had passed on enjoyably. Although Harry hadn’t done well at all, Brendon had been gracious enough to give him a few pointers.

“You want to keep your form and loosen your grip on the ball..” As Harry faced the lane, he felt the CEO come up behind him, and chills ran up his spine as gentle fingers first gently pushed at his back, fixing his posture then adjusted his fingers with a delicacy that almost caused Harry to drop the ball completely.

What surprised Harry most was the fact that they weren’t drinking and still having a good time.

Generally when the businessman was in his company, an old fashioned was in his grip. Now, however, it was vending machine chips and bottled water.

“More questions?”

“I’m a curious person!”

“Really? _You?_ Never would’ve guessed.” The sarcasm seeped through Brendon’s tone causing a guilty grin to grow on Harry’s lips.

They’d just wrapped up playing their round and had settled at a small abandoned table in a corner, away from wandering eyes.

“It was part of the agreement, B.”

“I know, I know. Ask away.” 

“Okay..” Harry mulled over his thoughts, wanting to choose carefully. “Are you close with your siblings?”

“Kind of.” Brendon didn’t hesitate to answer. “Closer with Charlotte, but that’s not saying much.”

Harry was nodding at this. It was odd trying to picture the CEO around _equals_. “What about your mum?”

At this, he was clearly hesitating. Harry’s fingers crept into the bag of chips and he slipped one between his lips as Brendon was finally responding. “Essentially.. kind of.”

“What do you mean?”

“Raising kids wasn’t really her thing, so we didn’t spend much time together.”

“Like, at _all_?”

“Yeah.”

That was depressing. 

Harry clearly was showing this on his features because Brendon was adding on. “It’s not a big deal. She wouldn’t have been very good at it anyway.”

“Do you..” Harry started, unsure if he was pushing his luck. “D’you wish she had?”

“She had what?”

“Tried.”

A silence fell. The question had been heavy and clearly the twenty-eight-year-old wasn’t super enthusiastic about having to respond to this.

“I’m sorry.” Harry apologized after a beat. The upbeat music coursing from the arcade nearby felt wrong in the current atmosphere of their conversation. “You don’t have to answer. That was.. I never should’ve asked.” 

Despite the slight dip things had taken from the personal conversation, the night recovered quickly. Brendon had actually invited him back to Rathbone Square to his relief and Harry made an effort _not_ to pry for the rest of the night.

As soon as the elevator doors were opening, Harry was peeling his coat off his shoulders, and Brendon discarded his car keys before following suit.

“I had fun tonight.” Harry murmured as Brendon hung up his coat. The CEO met his gaze once his hands were free and took a few paces nearer. 

Harry hated how his heart had started to go haywire.

“I had fun too. Winning’s always a good time.”

“Bugger off.” Harry rolled his eyes at the teasing although a grin was growing on his features. “I actually _let_ you win.”

“Oh, I bet.” Brendon was right in front of him by then and Harry followed a whim, reaching out to run his fingers up his clothed chest.

“We should do it again.”

“Bowling?”

“No.” Harry murmured, his hand had crept to the back of Brendon’s neck and when he met the CEO’s eyes, those detailed brown irises were gazing back. “A date.”

Brendon didn’t respond to this, and Harry felt confident fingers find his waist before he was meeting the American halfway in a kiss.

As expected, those butterflies were returning. Harry knew it wasn’t smart to fall as hard as he was for someone who was only _just_ coming to terms with having him in his life in _this_ way, but he couldn’t help it.

It was impossible, really. Especially when Brendon was holding him like _that_ and kissing him the way he was. It’d seemed as if they’d reached a new milestone that night, first with the gift, then with the impressively innocent and sickeningly sweet activity. He wished he could get used to this.

He wanted to.

“Sit down..” Harry murmured as he broke the heated kiss. His hands had wandered down to the CEO’s chest and he led him backwards till Brendon was sinking into the couch in the living room.

“What are you-”

“Just.. relax.” He cut the businessman off at this, sinking to his knees then finding the American’s belt so he could begin to undo it.

“Harry, you don’t have to.”

“I know.” He retorted, though his attention was fixed on getting the tight jeans off his thighs and past his knees.

“But-”

“Just let me try, okay?” His tone had been snappish and Brendon, clearly surprised, stopped protesting. “I want to. I do.” Harry added as the CEO’s boxers followed soon after.

“Okay.”

Harry was slightly surprised when Brendon agreed, but didn’t hesitate. His fingers found the businessman’s semi and he began to work it, leaning forward to lubricate both generously and expertly with spit. He’d given countless blowjobs in his life, but considering the man in front of him was _so_ experienced when it came to _everything_ , he couldn’t deny the fact that this was slightly intimidating.

But only slightly.

As he began to reach a decent pace, he felt nimble fingers tangle in his locks and lightly massage his scalp which was comforting, and with the surge of confidence, Harry finally bent over and began to use his mouth.

First, his tongue was running over his slit, mopping up what he could of the salty goodness that began to ooze from Brendon’s tip. This was a good sign.

Then he was placing his lips over the head and gently sucking at the sensitive area, which was quickly aiding in the semi becoming a complete hard-on. Another good sign.

Then he began to lower himself. Breathing out of his nose became essential as Harry slowly inched his way down Brendon’s cock, taking more and more of his length in his mouth till he figured going any further would result in a _not_ very sexy ending.

He was big.

And considering it’d been a while since Harry had given proper head to someone of this size, he was exercising the utmost caution.

After a while, he’d managed to find a decent pace, tongue planting itself to the underside of the erection as his bobbing motions became less awkward and more fluid.

Then, something happened.

Something he hadn’t been expecting, which only made Harry realize how uncomfortably tight his own jeans had gotten by then.

Brendon was moaning.

_“Fuck..”_


	19. Letting Go

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“Just..” Harry pulled away after a few additional pecks in order to meet his gaze. “..let go for once in your life?” The request was given in a whisper, just barely audible despite the fact that the penthouse was silent. “For me..” He was pleading. “..Please.”_

_“Fuck..”_

Harry was good at this.

When the uni student had proposed this unprecedented idea, Brendon had been filled with apprehension. The Brit still wasn’t aware of the stunt he’d pulled last time they had time between the sheets, and considering Brendon had the stage this time around -- front and center -- he wasn’t sure his mediocre acting skills would skate by Harry this time unnoticed. 

But that didn’t seem to need to be an option.

 _“Shit, H..”_ He couldn’t help but praise, his breathing becoming more erratic as the twenty-year-old continued to suction his cheeks and flick his tongue in all the right ways.

He wasn’t used to this.

Generally, when people had offered to give head in the past, it’d been used as foreplay, Brendon mainly getting aroused from the _sight_ of shameless lips filthily taking in his erection. But now, things were different.

Harry clearly knew what he was doing. 

By the time the student had cupped his balls, gently cradling and tickling the sensitive pair, Brendon’s head was falling on the back of the couch, eyes fluttering shut as he luxuriated in the sensation. He’d reached an impressive pace now. He’d been at it for a while, his spit adequately lubricating his length and Brendon couldn’t help but watch on occasion.

At a certain point, he was coming up for air. And the sight itself was -- to put it bluntly -- cum-worthy.

Brunette locks shielded part of Harry’s features as emerald eyes met chocolatey brown, his lips were plump and a deep rose, spit glazing over them and shimmering under the low-lighting in that London penthouse, his cheeks were flushed from over-exertion and the smallest smile was noticeable on his features.

“S’that feel good?”

_Obviously._

The Brit’s fingers were still working on Brendon’s length, keeping the sensitivity heightened, and it took everything in his power not to use the handful of hair he’d taken of Harry’s and shove him back on the erection. “It does.”

“Yeah?”

“You’re good at this.”

That seemed to be all Harry needed to hear, because seconds later, he was back at it. This time, Brendon watched. He watched how wide the student’s lips stretched to accommodate him. He watched as his nimble fingers worked the part of his shaft he hadn’t take in. He was pushing Harry’s fringe back to get a good view and watched some more.

Then he couldn’t.

He couldn’t because the pressure was building. Head falling back once again, Brendon’s eyes fluttered shut as the mounting pleasure coursed outwards from his abdomen. His fingers, which were still buried in Harry’s locks, tightened as he neared climax and he couldn’t help but instinctively thrust himself into the warm, wet mouth encasing him.

Then he was tipping over the edge.

His bottom lip found its way between his teeth as the load that burst from him as a result was being sucked out by the Brit. As much as he wanted to watch, his instincts told him to _feel_ instead. To feel pulses of pleasure making its way through his abdomen all the way to the tips of his fingers and toes, to feel the strands of Harry’s hair he hadn’t bunched up yet resting on his thighs as the student finished cleaning up, to feel the utter contentment that followed.

He was only coming to his senses as Harry was looking up, and as they locked eyes, Brendon was surprised to see utter delight on the twenty-year-old’s features.

“What?” He couldn’t help but ask, more curious than anything.

Harry shrugged at first, fingers still busy cleaning up as he utilized the tissue box nearby to aid in this pursuit. Then he was breaking the silence, “S’just you.”

“What about me?”

Another pause. He’d finished wiping up the excess spit by the time he was speaking up again. “You look really sexy when you cum.”

Oh. “Oh.”

“Sad I missed it last time.”

_Last time._

The guilt was creeping back to the forefront of his being as Harry gathered the used tissues and made his way to the kitchen to toss them out. Brendon tugged his boxers and jeans back on, shoving the gnawing feeling down as he did so. 

It was for the best.

“Think I’m gonna change. Is it alright if I spend the night?” Harry asked just as Brendon was getting up himself.

“Of course.”

“D’you work in the morning?”

“I do.”

Brendon was following the student to his room, the denim wrapped around his legs feeling uncomfortably tight since the orgasm. “Are you alright? I could help you out with.. you know.” He offered, realizing Harry must’ve been turned on to some extent himself.

“No, it’s fine.” Harry shook his head, gaze lowered as he tugged another one of Brendon’s joggers he’d acquired from the walk-in closet on. Milo had wandered into the master bedroom by then as well and was watching the pair from the ottoman pushed against the king-size bed, tail majestically waving from side to side.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, B.” Harry settled himself on the ottoman beside Milo as Brendon finished changing. Once he was out of the formal clothes, the Brit stood and decreased the distance between them again. Fingers found Brendon’s shoulders and Harry squeezed gently before dropping his hands to his waist and wrapping his arms around the toned torso in a warm embrace.

The intimacy was unexpected, but Brendon rolled with it as best he could, wrapping his arms around Harry as well in a gentle hug. The Brit showed no signs of letting go any time soon however, so he adjusted his grip, squeezing gently as he held him close. Then he was feeling hot breath against his neck, the twenty-year-old breaking the silence:

“You’re a phenomenal hugger.”

The statement was simple, yet that same annoying yanking ensued in the pit of Brendon’s stomach. “Phenomenal sounds pretty intense. You sure?” He murmured back, a hint of teasing in his tone. At this, Harry was nodding, face rubbing against Brendon’s expensive tee shirt.

“Positive.” Then he was adding on, “You should hug me more often.”

It was a strange order. Brendon was beginning to realize Harry was full of these. Generally, the only people to boss him around was his father and those on a similar level. 

In the moment, he didn’t mind too much. “I’ll try.”

At this, Harry was shifting slightly from his snuggled position so he could meet Brendon’s gaze. “That’s more than good enough for me.”

Brendon didn’t understand it. He didn’t get why someone like Harry who was kind, generous -- especially when he rarely had anything to begin with, empathetic, compassionate, hard-working, and _brave_ liked _him_.

Brendon possessed barely any of those qualities himself.

He’d put the Brit through hell countless amounts of times -- if not mentally, emotionally, and he still came back.

All he knew was that those few days between Gemma’s party and Christmas, the few days of static silence from the student, had been the most uncomfortable he’d felt on his own in a while. It wasn’t that Brendon was no longer independent, but focusing on the tedious tasks that were thrust on him in his day-to-day life were increasingly difficult when every few seconds those glazed over, forest green eyes were peering from his memory. Tear-stained cheeks and an expression with so much hurt and abandon Brendon would rather suffer through infinite more pointless birthday parties than ever see Harry like that again.

“Are you hungry?”

The question had tugged Brendon from his thoughts, and when he floated back to earth he was still staring into those same, vivid eyes. “Kind of, yeah.” This had made him painfully aware of the fact that, _no_ , he _hadn’t_ had dinner yet. “I can order something. Did you want to take a look at the menu?”

“Do we have to?” Brendon had just wormed out of Harry’s grip and was making his way to the bedside table when he registered the Brit’s words.

“Order something? That’d be preferable. I don’t really keep leftovers..” At this, Harry’s expression was contorting into that of disbelief. “What?”

“You don’t keep leftovers?”

“Who’s going to eat it?” Harry only stared more. “I’m gone all day after breakfast and I’m not having the same thing two days in a row, Harry. That’s ridiculous.”

Though the Brit was looking at him as if _he_ was the ridiculous one.

“Let’s not order something.” Then he was approaching Brendon and extending a hand.

“Did you want to go out? I just changed.”

“ _No_ , B..” Harry was rolling his eyes at this. “Let’s cook.”

It was Brendon’s turn to look surprised. “I don’t cook.”

“You can now.”

“Why would I? We don’t need to.”

“We don’t _need_ to..” Harry reached out when Brendon didn’t accept the invitation and took his hand regardless. “..but we _can_.”

“Absolutely not.”

“When’s the last time you made yourself something to eat?” Harry asked, tugging Brendon off the bed and leading him out of the room.

“There’s no reason to.”

“It’ll be fun.”

“It’s such a waste of time.”

“What else would you be doing right now?” Harry whipped around as soon as they’d reached the island of the kitchen, Milo entering seconds after, curiosity etched on his features. “It’s either this or we’re cuddling. Pick your poison, Urie.”

The surge of irritation that coursed through him in that moment boiled over as soon as he registered what he assumed Harry thought was a stern expression. It was then that Brendon realized the Brit was the least threatening person he’d ever met and the thought caused a tiny grin to tug on his lips.

“What’s so funny?” Harry was asking, that same innocent annoyance apparent on his face.

“Nothing.”

“So what’s it gonna be?”

Deciding it was best to at least make the twenty-year-old happy while they were in each other’s company, especially considering his classes would start soon, Brendon broke the silence. “If we burn this place down, hope you know you’re indebted to me for practically the rest of your life.”

The grin that unfurled on Harry’s lips made it all worth it.

In the end, after the Brit spent a few minutes sticking his nose in all the drawers and seeing the vast selection of ingredients at his disposal, he’d decided on--

“Pizza? Really?” Brendon had settled on a stool, watching the student buzz around and begin to gather tools.

“Yeah, why not?” He asked, accent thick as he located the flour. “I make it sometimes with Emmy and Ollie, they love it.”

“They’re children.”

“Yeah, well, considering how much you cook on a daily basis, you’re all on the same level.” The sass in his tone was hard to miss.

“How hard could it be?”

Extremely, apparently.

Harry had gotten the dough started, and after he’d effectively covered himself in flour and whatever other ingredients he’d gathered to create the semi-sticky substance, he was summoning Brendon to his side of the island.

“I don’t want to get messy.”

“Brendon, it’s _flour_.”

“Flour _is_ messy.”

“You’re such a drama queen. It won’t kill you.”

After some pestering, Brendon was wrist deep in dough and doing his best to knead it. Harry was a surprisingly good teacher, eyeing his technique and politely correcting him when he went wrong -- which happened often.

“See? You’ve got it.”

“It’s all over me.”

“Good thing washers _and_ dryers exist then.” Harry’s breath ghosted his ear as he said this, chin resting on Brendon’s shoulder as he peered over at his work. His arms had been wormed around his torso and he’d spent a good amount of time just watching.

“How much longer do I need to do this?” Brendon asked, extremely aware of the fact that this was the longest he’d spent in the kitchen since he’d moved there.

“It’s almost done. See, you can tell.” Harry gestured towards a specific part of the dough, hands covered in flour of its own which Brendon now realized was all over his shirt.

Wonderful.

“I can’t, but okay.”

Once the dough was complete, he was handed a rolling pin he hadn’t realized he owned so he could create a circular, flat shape out of it. It’d taken some work, but soon the semi-sticky substance was resembling a disc.

“Then just sprinkle this on top, like so..” Harry had tugged the tub of flour back out of a cabinet and pinched a bit between two fingers so he could sprinkle it over the dough.

“ _Hey_ \-- fucking hell, H!” Whilst Brendon’s attention was waning, Harry had jerked his hand in his direction, hitting him with a face full of the white, powdery substance.

“Oh, gosh. I’m _so_ sorry!” Powered hands covered the bottom half of Harry’s face as he burst into a fit of giggles. “I didn’t mean for it to be _that_ bad-”

“Bullshit.”

“I’m serious!” The Brit was shooting back. _“Hey!”_ Then he was protesting as Brendon grabbed a handful of flour himself and was attempting to get a good shot at his face as well in a bout for revenge.

Milo angrily darted out of the kitchen as Harry dodged Brendon’s attacks. The Brit had made his way to the other side of the island by the time Brendon was reaching him, and the laughter increased in volume as strong arms found his torso and held him back.

“I apologized!”

“What am I gonna do with an apology?” Brendon asked, though a grin was dancing on his own lips. Harry’s lithe figure was squirming in his grip, dimples in full view as he tried to resist getting tugged back to the scene of the crime.

“Brendon, please! Flour’s _so_ hard to get out of my hair--”

“Should’ve thought about that before you--”

_‘Thump!’_

Then they were both meeting the ground.

The powdery substance had coated the hardwood floor, making it more slippery, and that combined with Harry’s clumsiness had been a recipe for disaster.

Brendon was on the verge of asking if the student was okay when Harry had taken the opportunity to find leverage. He was pushing Brendon fully to the ground, leg swinging over his waist to pull into a straddle so he’d have the upper-hand.

“Get the fuck _off_ me--”

“Promise you’ll stop!”

“Harry--”

“Promise!” For a moment, Harry had been on top, but years of consistent gym-going and the student’s incessant giggling had Brendon shoving him to the ground instead, though instead of pulling into a straddle as Harry had done, he stayed beside him. Laughter continued to pour from the student’s lips as Brendon pinned his arms to the floor and for a moment it was the only sound filling the quiet apartment.

The burst of adrenaline that coursed through Brendon had dried up, and he was using his energy and Harry’s lack thereof, to catch his breath. 

Then he was watching. 

Chuckles were still bubbling over the twenty-year-old’s lips who seemed to have found the whole thing more entertaining than anything. And he was staring.

Harry was gorgeous.

Something held the phrase on the tip of his tongue however, the pull to keep it to himself stronger than his urge to make the Brit inevitably blush. This didn’t matter however, because soon Harry was breaking the silence anyway.

“You’re pretty.”

“ _You’re_ pretty.” Brendon echoed back, and as expected, Harry’s cheeks were tinting slightly -- made even more dramatic by the stark-white powder coating his features.

“I think I really like you.”

This, Brendon didn’t respond to. He couldn’t.

It was no secret Harry wore his heart on his sleeve. The student had practically declared his feelings a handful of times now, however whenever Brendon was met with these sudden proclamations, he found himself struggling to engage.

It wasn’t as if he _didn’t_ like Harry. He did.

“I’m sorry.” The Brit was apologizing after a few beats of silence, a slight frown apparent on his features.

“Don’t apologize.”

“No, I..” Harry was shaking his head, hands gently worming their way out of Brendon’s grip as he sat up instead. Bits of flour showered onto the hardwood floor as he did this -- it was very much in his hair at this point. “..I promised I wouldn’t.”

“Harry, it’s fine.”

“It’s not-”

 _“It is.”_ Brendon told him sternly, holding his soft gaze with a steely one of his own. Harry had leaned against the cabinets, one leg pulled up to his chest as if for slight protection. Brendon shifted so he was sitting next to him.

“I don’t want to pressure you or anything.” The student was telling him in a gentle voice.

“You’re not pressuring me.” Brendon reassured him. “Harry..” He trailed off into silence, struggling to gather his thoughts. “I _do_ like you. I do. It’s just..” He sighed. “I feel like we’re on two different wavelengths practically all the time.”

“What d’you mean?” Apprehension was laced in his tone and Brendon could feel that emerald gaze boring into the side of his skull, wide-eyed and curious.

“I’m just afraid that if we do eventually end up going along with this.. this _feeling_ , you’ll start out at a hundred miles per hour and I’ll be going twenty.” Metaphors weren’t his strong suit. Brendon tore his gaze away from the flour covered refrigerator to meet Harry’s eyes. He was staring back at him with that same expression.

Wonder -- it seemed like.

“Well..” Then his eyebrows were furrowing. He was clearly thinking hard. “..I could always slow down. I have been-”

“You say that.” Brendon couldn’t help but cut him off. “You say that, but I know you won’t be able to help it.” He made an effort to keep his voice gentle. “Harry, I see the way you look at me. Even when you don’t think I notice. It’s..” _intense_. It was intense. “I just don’t want you to expect things from me that’s out of my.. _realm_.”

“Brendon, I know you’re no Prince Charming.” Harry retorted. “But also.. you can be when you want to. _I know this.._ ” He raised his voice just as Brendon parted his lips to protest. “..because I’ve seen you. Especially when you don’t think I’m watching. Like.. at the party. You didn’t have to stick around, but you did. You hung out with Matty and Emmy for ages even though they were probably being.. a _lot_.”

“I wasn’t sticking around for them.” Brendon admitted, only realizing how it sounded after it fell from his lips. He powered on regardless. “I went for you.”

“And then you say rubbish like that.” Harry was continuing, a slight tinge to his cheeks. “Which is adorable as hell.”

“I’m not trying to be cute.” Brendon murmured with a helpless shrug. “Just telling the truth.”

“Exactly.” Harry’s digits, which had been fidgeting with his joggers, had wandered to Brendon’s arm by then. And after lightly dancing on his flour-coated skin, they found his wrist before slightly applying pressure to his palm and lacing their fingers together. “S’another thing I love about you.. How honest you are.”

Another guilty twinge.

He shoved it down for the time being. “I’m not always gonna be perfect, H.”

“I know.” He was nodding. “Trust me, I do. I’ve been on the other side of your rampages. Reckon I’m prepared for the worst.”

“I don’t.. _rampage_.” Brendon murmured defensively under his breath. “I just.. get angry.”

“Yeah, well, I do too.” Harry was still gazing at him, softness in his eyes. “Got anything else to scare me away?”

At this, Brendon was eyeing him. The student seemed oddly equipped for this sort of conversation, as if he’d been rehearsing the rebuttals since day one. His hair, though covered in flour, still fell perfectly around his face, the gentle curls only exaggerating the innocence even further. He was pretty. 

“I don’t trust easily.”

“We can work on that.”

“And I won’t be getting any more free time than I already have.”

“Classes are about to start, so neither will I.”

“And I can’t.. I can’t guarantee I won’t hurt you.” Brendon confessed. He could feel Harry fidgeting with their laced fingers. “Unintentionally, of course.”

“You already have.” The Brit murmured. “Twice, if I’m remembering correctly.”

And before Brendon could think of any more reasons that’d show why this sort of thing was a _bad idea_ , Harry was leaning forward, erasing the distance between them in a gentle kiss. His free hand had come up to cup Brendon’s cheek and the way their lips danced together was gentle. And careful.

“Just..” Harry pulled away after a few additional pecks in order to meet his gaze. “..let go for once in your life?” The request was given in a whisper, just barely audible despite the fact that the penthouse was silent. “For me..” He was pleading. “..Please.”

The more analytical side of him wanted to point out how this was _technically_ pressure, which Harry had promised _not_ to do.

But as he sat there, covered in what was supposed to be a component of their dinner that Thursday night.. Brendon couldn’t find it in himself to care. 

So he didn’t.

“Okay.”


	20. The Rich, The Entitled, and The Snooty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“It was nice meeting you.” Hayley had shifted towards Gemma who’d been lingering by the couch, and the brunette nodded in response._
> 
> _“Nice meeting you too.” She murmured politely._
> 
> _Then something very awkward happened._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, guys!
> 
> We've hit chapter 20! Wooo. And with that, comes a new update. It's getting pretty tough to post every other day, so I'm going to switch to updating every _three_ days instead of every two.
> 
> This means -- chapter 21 will be up on Sunday the 14th, then chapter 22, Wednesday the 17th, and so on and so forth.
> 
> Still loving writing this and still have all the muse for the story! Life's just getting even _more_ busy.
> 
> Thank you! Enjoy. x

_Brendon: Probably not for another week or so._

_Harry: A week? How come?_

“Oi. Does this look like a pencil?”

Harry’s eyes were flickering from his bright laptop screen and landing on an impressively large sculpture made out of -- what smelled like -- PlayDoh. “Yeah.”

_‘Ping!’_

_Brendon: I’m super booked, H._

“You sure, mate?” Alfie’s voice was penetrating his thoughts and Harry was tearing his gaze away from his half-finished response to meet ocean eyes, which were staring at him inquisitively. “It’s not too skinny to you?”

“It’s a pencil, Alf.” Harry murmured distractedly, for he was already finishing up his message. “It’s supposed to be skinny.”

_Harry: Can u meet for lunch sometime then? I can bring something over if u cant leave the office_

“I dunno, our instructor’s super picky this semester, mate..” Alfie was murmuring. “Harry.” He retorted when he didn’t get an immediate response. “.. _H.”_

“Yeah? What is it?”

“What’s gotten into you?”

“What d’you mean?” Harry’s eyes had been fixed on the _[ typing.. ]_ indicator at the bottom of the chat, as it had been for the entirety of the free block.

They were only a few days into the new semester, it being Wednesday, and the workload was piling on. Physics had been one of the more difficult courses, as expected, and though Harry had gotten ahead, attending the first tutoring session offered and coming with very specific questions in regards to his homework, he already felt behind.

“You’ve been.. different lately.” The brunette murmured from his position across the small table they’d been sharing in the library. Alfie had found Harry after his sculpting class, and Harry had been deep in his Calculus homework by then. Though as soon as his best friend had gotten properly settled, Brendon had wrapped up a meeting and was responding to his proposition.

And Harry’s laptop had taken the majority of his attention.

“Have I?” Harry glanced up from his laptop only to receive a steely glare from his best friend, whose patience was wearing thin. The pang of guilt that followed was hard to ignore. “Sorry.” He apologized after a moment. “What were you saying?”

_‘Ping!’_

“Hold that thought.” Harry added quickly, ignoring the roll of the eyes he received as a result. 

_Brendon: Not this week, Harry. Sorry._

It was a surprisingly short message considering how long it’d taken the CEO to respond, and Harry was only left wondering _why_.

“Is it that bloke you brought ‘round to the party?” Considering Harry was still deliberating how to respond to the businessman, he was able to shift his attention back to Alfie. “The rich one?”

“He’s not..” _rich_ \-- he’d wanted to say. But that was a lie. He was.

“Is that why you were busy all break? Because I needed my Smash Brothers partner and you cancelled, like, five times, mate.”

“I know, I’m sorry.”

“Is it him then?” Alfie pressed on, clearly not willing to let the subject waver. “Was he the Craigslist bloke?” 

Harry hadn’t told his best friend much when it came to how the meeting had gone. He’d let him know it’d been a success, but past October, Brendon’s name hadn’t come up between them again. Harry wasn’t sure why he was so determined to keep the CEO to himself, especially when he and Alfie constantly shared everything. At first, it’d been shame. But now.. it was something else.

“Er, yeah. It was him.” Harry admitted after a beat, silently hoping that’d be the extent of his interrogation.

“So you two are.. what? A thing now? Boyfriend and boyfriend?” Alfie’s tone wasn’t teasing however -- he’d shifted his attention back to his pencil sculpture.

“Nah, no..” Harry shook his head vigorously at this, his mop of hair flying. He pushed it back moments later and out of eyes. He needed to get it cut soon. “We’re just friends.” It wasn’t _entirely_ a lie. They were testing things out.

Taking it slow.

“You sure?” 

“Yeah.”

“Have you two shagged?” Sapphire eyes met emerald at this, determined to catch the slightest flicker of emotion. And though Harry’s expression had remained the same, he could feel his cheeks warm up. Shit. “How many times?”

“Alf-”

“So you _are_ dating?”

“We’re not _dating_ , Alf. We’re just..”

“Just what?”

“Why are you pressing me about this?” Harry couldn’t help but get defensive, though his cheeks were still flaring up from the interrogation. At this, Alfie was shrugging, and it was Harry’s turn to grow suspicious. “He’s a good guy.”

“If you say so.”

“What d’you mean?”

“Haven’t met him meself, have I?” Alfie held his gaze determinedly as he said this, and Harry was left debating his words.

“You did.. sort of. At the party.”

“And he all about ignored me, ay?”

“He didn’t _ignore_ you.”

“I asked him a question, he didn’t bother to answer.”

“Because he was mad at me.”

“For what?”

_‘Ping!’_

_Brendon: How about next Monday? We could grab dinner?_

The fact that the CEO had _double messaged_ had effectively stolen Harry’s attention, who was back to typing away.

“You know what? Forget it.” At Alfie’s words, Harry was looking up, only to find his best friend placing his pencil sculpture in a case and beginning to pack his things.

“Where you going?” Harry asked, slightly irritated at the passive aggressive behavior, but shoving the feeling down.

“I have shit to do.”

“Like what?” Harry powered on. “You were working on a project-”

“I’m not gonna sit here and be ignored the entire time.” Alfie snapped. This had taken Harry by surprise, who hadn’t anticipated the sudden burst of anger. “It’s fucking-”

 _“Sh!”_ A cranky librarian had made her way over by then and held an index finger up to her lips, shooting them both a steely glare.

Harry waited till she was out of earshot before continuing on. “I’m not _ignoring_ you.”

“You kind of are, mate.” Alfie hadn’t stalled his packing. “You’re too busy texting your boyfriend-”

“He’s not my boyfriend and we’re just..” Harry couldn’t help but sigh in irritation. “We’re trying to make plans.”

“And what about me?” He’d stopped by then, backpack strap slung over his shoulder and annoyance apparent on his face.

“Alfie..” Harry began, disbelief laced in his tone. “I see you every day.” This was true. Considering Harry had no other friends of substance, they spent all their free blocks around _each other_.

The artist seemed to catch on to this, clearly at a loss for words as he tried to rebuild his argument. “I don’t like him.” He said after considerable silence. “I don’t have a good feeling about you two.”

“Look, I know he can be..” Harry grappled for a word. “.. _off-putting_ at first, but he’s really sweet.” His mind was drifting back to the last night they’d spent together, the night of the bowling date. 

After the lengthy conversation, they’d finished making the pizza and cleaned up. Upon changing out of their flour-covered clothes, they’d proceeded to spend the remaining time it was cooking in the oven locking lips, and Harry was almost positive neither of them had come up for air until the timer was going off thirty minutes later.

“Whatever.” Alfie was muttering, slinging the other backpack strap on his opposite shoulder before grabbing his encased sculpture. “Don’t come crying to me when he finds another pretty student’s leg to get between.”

“Alfie..” Harry muttered, irritated at the low blow but determined to grab his attention nonetheless. The artist had already proceeded to leave the table however, and if Harry’s items weren’t so scattered, he would’ve gathered them and followed. “Alfie!”

 _“Sh!”_ The librarian had returned, looking more stern than ever. “This is a _library_ , not a playground!”

“Sorry.” Harry apologized half-heartedly, though his gaze was still fixed on the messy mop of brunette hair now exiting the double doors at the other end of the room. After he was out of sight, Harry was returning his gaze back to his laptop, slightly disheartened from the argument, but not enough to forget about the task at hand. Brendon.

_Harry: Super fancy dinner or can we eat like normal ppl?_

Brendon was responding right away.

 _Brendon: Fancy.  
_ _[ typing.. ]  
_ _I’ll have Hayley bring you a suit._

“A suit? Where you two headed?” Gemma asked from her position in front of the stove, the smell of whatever concoction she’d found while browsing for recipes on Harry’s laptop wafting about the house. 

“No idea.” Harry shrugged. It was a little past three that Sunday afternoon and Hayley was due to come around within the hour. “Don’t reckon it’ll go very well..” He added, hoisting himself up onto the counter next to where shredded cheese lay and pinching some between two fingers before bringing it between his lips when Gemma’s back was turned.

“You don’t? Why not?” She’d stirred whatever contents were in the pot for a moment before balancing the wooden ladle on top and facing him. “S’just dinner.”

“Yeah, at a _fancy_ restaurant.”

“And?” Gemma’s hair lay in curls that day. She was planning on going out with her on-and-off again girlfriend Alia that night and hadn’t wasted any time in beginning to get ready, despite the fact that she had several hours to go. Her clothing was still casual however, pajama shorts and a crop top barely covering up any skin. “Just order food and eat it. What’s so hard ‘bout that?”

“Gem..” Harry began, tone suggesting it was the most obvious thing in the world. “I’ve rarely been to restaurants as it is. I dunno the..” He struggled to find the word.

“Etiquette?”

“Yes, _that_.” Harry nodded once his sister had completed the sentence. Gemma’s eyebrows raised, unimpressed.

“That rubbish is just for TV, I’m sure it’s nothing like that in real life.” Gemma returned to the contents in the pot, first scooping up some to taste before adding some spices. 

“But what if it is?”

“What’s the worst that could happen?” She placed the ladle back down once she was finished and began scouring the fridge. “You embarrass yourself in front of ‘im? Bit too late for that, I reckon.”

_“Bugger.”_

“It’s true!” She retorted, resurfacing from the fridge with one of Emmy’s juice boxes in hand. She was stabbing it with the straw as she continued. “You two have been going out for how long? And he’s stuck around so..” She brought the straw to her lips and sucked as she gave a small shrug. “..clearly he can’t be arsed about the small stuff. He likes you.”

_He likes you._

At the comment, Harry could feel his cheeks begin to warm up, the fact one that was beginning to get more difficult to deny. It was true that he and the CEO had reached several milestones together, from the date to _cooking_ together, they were clearly venturing into realms previously not tread by the businessman who was becoming less and less rigid by the day.

“Plus..” Gemma was continuing in a sing-song voice once Harry didn’t respond. “..he’s taking _you_ out.”

“And?” Harry murmured in a tone that suggested he _wasn’t_ denying this and wanted to know more of her input.

“And it’s the first time, innit?” She asked, periodically sipping from the juice box. “I mean, the bowling was _your_ idea, yeah?” Then she was grinning. “This is his.”

That much was true as well.

By this time, Harry couldn’t fight the grin creeping up his own lips, though before he could say more, the familiar chime of the doorbell rang throughout the house, signaling the arrival of a new visitor.

“That must be Hayley.” Harry slid off the counter and practically skipped to the door, beating out an excited Emmy who’d been watching Scooby-Doo in the living room. He’d scooped the giggling five-year-old into his arms before she could reach the entrance area and set her back down. She returned to the tv almost immediately, the commercial break apparently over.

“Long time no see, you!” Hayley’s voice danced into the house as soon as he’d tugged open the door. The chill from the gust of wind caused him to shiver, but he was accepting her hug without hesitation.

“Hey! Yeah.” He murmured into a sea of platinum blonde hair. “You look great.”

“You do too-- _ooo_ , this hair’s getting long!” Hayley had felt at Harry’s locks as she pulled away from the warm embrace. “Wonder how long it’ll take Brendon to comment on it.”

“Yeah, it’s.. a bit out of control.” Harry murmured as he shut the door behind her. His hair had been lazily pulled up by one of Gemma’s scarves, the general style messy and careless. He hadn’t put much thought into it that day, going for function over style. “Gemma will need to cut it soon..”

“It’s cute!” Hayley murmured, still eyeing him with that analytical gaze that always caused a slight blush to creep up his cheeks. “Who’s Gemma?”

“Oh, my sister.” Harry explained, realizing she hadn’t met the family yet. “I can introduce you. And I can take this..” He realized where his manners had been lacking, only just noticing the several concealed suits in her grip and taking them from her by the hangers.

“Thank you, it’s _heavy_.”

“Brendon’s got you doing his dirty work again, eh?” Harry murmured, leading her through the entrance area and into the living room. He was only slightly joking.

“Yeah, as always.” She retorted with an animated sigh. A high squeal was following soon after. _“And who is this?”_ Manicured nails found the back of the felt sofa, a giggling Emmy peering at the pair of them from the seat. “Are you Harry’s sister?” She asked in an animated voice that caused Emmy to screech with glee. _“You’re far too pretty!”_

“I am! I am!” Emmy was shouting suddenly, leaping on the sofa and cackling excitedly. “My name’s Emmy. What’s your name?”

“Emmy’s so pretty! I’m Hayley.” The Eurasian’s long blonde hair, which was in a beanie that day, cascaded down her back at an impressive length. Harry hadn’t realized how long her hair was. “But you can call me _Hay-Hay_ or _Lee-Lee_ or _Queen Hayley_ \--I answer to it all!”

“ _You’re_ not a queen!” Emmy’s squealed in between giggles, clearly entertained by the silliness. Harry couldn’t help but grin as the pair interacted, not realizing just _how_ much he’d needed them to meet until just then. “I love your hair!”

“I love _your_ hair!”

“You’re pretty!”

“You’re _gorgeous_ , honey. And super sweet!” Hayley had tucked a lock of Emmy’s hair behind her ear just as Gemma was entering the living room, clearly curious about who was the source of all the ruckus.

“Oh, Hayley.” Harry got the attention of the personal assistant who stopped doting on the five-year-old to meet his gaze. “This is my other sister, Gemma.” He gestured towards the brunette in the doorway who’d been eyeing Hayley curiously.

They locked eyes and Hayley waved politely, her personality clearly more mature but still light-hearted when it came to the adult figure. “Hi, I’m Hayley.” She introduced herself, approaching his sister with an extended hand.

“I’m Gemma.” She retorted with a polite smile, meeting her hand shake halfway, though Harry could tell by her expression that she was sizing the personal assistant up.

“I like your top. That’s super cute.” Hayley complimented, a smile dancing on her lips.

“Thanks.”

“Where’d you get it?”

“Er..” Gemma shrugged at this, either unsure or unwilling to share. “..I don’t remember, honestly. Sorry..” 

Harry had placed the suits on the back of the couch and was already unzipping the first one, the pleasantries being exchanged not nearly as exciting as Emmy’s had been. It was as the first suit was hitting the light that he realized how _expensive_ the material seemed. It was similar to the ones he’d seen on display while shopping in the square with the CEO the morning of Les Mis, and by the looks of it, he could only imagine how much it had cost.

“You’ve only rented these, right?” Harry asked, glancing over at Hayley who’d still been engaged in conversation with his sister.

“Oh, I wasn’t a hundred percent sure about your measurements, so I just got a few.” Hayley made her way over, eyeing the first one he’d opened. “I think that was my favorite though. You should try it on.”

“You didn’t _buy_ them though, yeah?”

“I did. Why?” She asked, her tone extremely casual.

“Hayley..” He began, disbelief caked in the statement. “These must’ve cost so much.”

“Brendon wanted to make sure you weren’t walking around in anything too big or too small, y’know? It’s totally fine.” She’d shrugged it off as if it’d been nothing and Harry only dropped the subject because he was aware of how these arguments with the Eurasian ended up. “Try it on! Do you need help?” 

“No, I got it..”

“Have you put on a suit before?”

“Yeah, I have..” Harry shot back with slight defiance. “..once.” For his uni interview two years prior. He’d borrowed one from Alfie’s older brother and had to have help getting it on. He chose not to include this part.

“Alright, well, get changed. Brendon’s expecting a response soon.” Hayley shunted him off with a lazy wave of the arms, signaling for him to head upstairs. 

With a roll of the eyes, Harry obeyed, finding his way to his room then subsequently stripping. He found Max on the bed, on the family cell phone, chatting with someone on the other line. The fifteen-year-old only shot a glance in his direction before returning to his conversation. 

Changing into the suit had been more complicated than anticipated, Harry highly underestimating how many pieces he’d have to slip into and by the time he was coming downstairs, Hayley had settled herself on the arm of the sofa closest to Emmy. Gemma had been lounged on the recliner, eyes flickering between the personal assistant and five-year-old who were chatting excitedly.

“Oh wow..” Hayley’s gaze had flickered towards Harry once he was in view. “Okay, hold on..” She approached him in seconds and immediately slipped off his jacket. “This was.. a valiant attempt.”

The amount of adjusting she had to do was embarrassing, though once she was finished, she was taking a few steps back and eyeing him impressively. “Feels a bit..” He started.

“Big.” Hayley murmured before he could finish the sentence. “Thank _god_ I got two more sizes and they’re both smaller. Try the next one in the pile.” She was shoving another concealed suit in his grip and sending him on his way upstairs without a second glance.

The second attempt hadn’t been as futile, though when he was returning downstairs, Hayley approached him once again. “What’d I do wrong this time?” He asked, slightly offended, as she slipped the black jacket off of him once again.

“You tied the tie wrong.” The vest was coming off as well and Hayley was fastening the tie around his neck at an impressive speed.

“You do this a lot?” He couldn’t help but ask, in awe of the fact that she could do it backwards when he could barely get it on himself.

“I’ve been working for Brendon for a while.” She murmured, chestnut eyes fixed on the task at hand before she was tightening it around his neck then holding up his vest once again. “Arms in.”

As she helped him dress, curiosity was winning once again. “How long?”

“Hm?”

“How long have you been working for him?” Harry expanded once he realized how vague the question had been.

“It’ll be four years in a couple weeks.” She murmured, holding up the jacket next for him to slip into.

“Four years?” Harry asked rhetorically, eyebrows raised in surprise. Then he was asking another nagging question. “How old are you?”

At this, Hayley was smiling. “Guess.”

Harry, who hadn’t expected that response, scanned her soft features, trying to come up with an estimate. It was then that he realized he’d never really thought about it.

“Twenty-five.” It wasn’t Harry who’d spoken up, but Gemma. And he glanced over at his sister in slight surprise before meeting Hayley’s gaze.

“Is she right?” He asked.

At this, Hayley’s smile grew even wider. Then she was shaking her head. “I’ll be twenty-three in March.”

“You’re twenty- _two_?” Harry echoed, surprised laced in his tone. “But you’re so..”

“So what?” Hayley asked playfully, fastening the last button on his jacket before taking a few steps back.

 _“Responsible.”_ Hayley was laughing. “How d’you start working for Brendon?” He then asked, but Hayley had pulled out her phone by then.

“Interview me later.” After taking a photo -- which Harry hadn’t been prepared for -- she gazed at him admiringly. “You’re so pretty. I love dressing you.”

He could feel his cheeks begin to warm up at this, but was gazing down at the suit regardless. “How’s it look?”

“Incredible!” The Eurasian shared encouragingly. “What d’you think, Gemma?” Then she was turning to his sister who clearly hadn’t been expected to give her input.

Gemma’s eyes scanned his figure before nodding. “Really good, yeah.”

“Brendon will eat you _up_. I swear to god..” Hayley approached him, fixing the tie once more before nodding in approval.

“D’you know where we’re going?” Harry asked, hoping his face wasn’t nearly as crimson as he felt it was.

“I do, but I was told not to tell you.” Hayley murmured with a knowing grin.

“I won’t tell him, I swear.”

“But you’ll look it up and it would ruin the surprise. Where’s the fun in that?”

“But..” He couldn’t help but continue in slight irritation. “I’m not good at.. at _fancy_ things. I don’t know how to act.”

“Just be yourself.”

“Is that good enough?” Harry didn’t care how insecure he sounded, the impending dinner looming over his head like a dreaded assignment.

Hayley stopped fidgeting with his suit jacket and met his gaze. Her eyes were softer, kinder. “Of _course_ it’s good enough. Look, if it’s any consolation, in the _four years_ I’ve worked for him, he’s _never_ made reservations for two -- not unless it was some sort of business deal he was trying to wrap up.” The statement alone had done wonders, the butterflies returning in full-force.

“You sure?”

“Positive.”

Harry couldn’t fight the grin dancing on his lips at the thought of _Brendon_ wanting to take _him_ out on a _date_. Though the environment was entirely out of his comfort zone, Harry remembered the conversation -- or more so, the _argument_ \-- they’d had in his office, it was about compromise. They’d gone bowling and now it was time for _Harry_ to make that sacrifice.

That sacrifice being, potentially making a fool of himself in front of a restaurant full of _Brendons_.

The rich, the entitled, and the snooty.

“You’ll be fine. You two aren’t going for the aesthetic. You’re going for each other.” Hayley continued, finally undoing the buttons on his suit jacket, beginning to undress him.

Harry realized it’d be difficult to focus on classes the next day with the impending date on his mind, which was why he made a mental note to work extra hard on his homework that night in order to not fall _too_ behind when his mind inevitably wandered during those lectures.

Hayley finished packing up within minutes and Emmy didn’t hesitate to lunge herself into the Eurasian’s arms, already attached despite the fact that they’d just met an hour ago. “Come visit! Okay?”

“I’ll _definitely_ come say hi.” Hayley laughed into the mop of platinum blonde hair, the five-year-old’s arms wound tightly around her neck.

“Alright, Em..” Harry pried the child from her arms and set her back on the sofa. “I’ll see you soon?” He then asked Hayley, approaching her for a hug of his own, and he felt her squeeze back.

“Yeah, come to the office or something. Everybody’s been asking about you.”

“Really?” Harry asked in slight surprise, meeting her gaze as he pulled away.

“Yeah, dude!” She nodded vigorously. “You’ve been, like, the talk of the town. It’s crazy.”

“Brendon’s never mentioned anything..”

At this, Hayley was rolling her eyes. “He’s everyone’s _boss_ , Harry. How d’you think he’d react if he overheard any kind of gossip in general?”

That was true.

Harry had spent so much time around _relaxed_ Brendon that he hadn’t realized how different he really was at work.

“It was nice meeting you.” Hayley had shifted towards Gemma who’d been lingering by the couch, and the brunette nodded in response.

“Nice meeting you too.” She murmured politely.

Then something very awkward happened.

Hayley had gone in for a hug, but Gemma had extended her hand. At this, the two were switching, Gemma going in for a hug but Hayley extending a hand. A nervous giggle left Gemma’s lips as she extended a hand once again. At this, Hayley was grasping it in her own and they shook rigidly before the personal assistant was gathering the suits in her arms.

“Can I help with that--” Harry offered, but the Eurasian was cutting him off.

“No! No, I got it..” She murmured hastily as she made her way to the door. Harry opened it for her and she crossed the threshold into the freezing, January air.

Harry shut the front door as soon as he saw that Hayley was safely in her shiny, black car. Then he was returning to the living room where he found Gemma still lingering by the sofa.

“How long have you known her?” His sister was asking, tone casual, though her fingers were fidgeting with Emmy’s hair. 

“Hayley?” He clarified as he settled into the recliner. “A few months.” He answered with a lazy shrug. “Why?” 

Gemma merely shook her head as if the topic had no significance to her life. As she sunk into the cushion beside Emmy, her attention was fixed on the television screen, a far away look in her eyes.

“No reason.”


	21. The Dorchester

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“You look really handsome tonight.” There it was. Harry’s cheeks darkened considerably, though emerald eyes hadn’t left his._
> 
> _“You think so?”_
> 
> _“I do.” Perhaps it was the champagne, maybe the intimate lighting and private atmosphere, but the evening was making him feel particularly honest. “You’re -- hands-down -- the prettiest person I’ve ever had the pleasure of meeting. Inside and out.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm alive!
> 
> So -- took a small hiatus ( 'small' alsdkjaklsdja ). My mental health has been wonky, and I _really_ struggled with the ending of this chapter for some reason? I think abandoning the piece for a while sort of got me out of the groove/mindset, so -- as of right now -- not entirely sure where I want to go with this? But I adore the story and am DETERMINED to continue, so hopefully an update will coming sooner rather than later?
> 
> Anyway! Made this chapter longer just because! Hope whoever ends up reading this enjoys it! xx

“It’ll save time since I don’t have to change-”

“You’re not going to _change_?” Brunette eyebrows disappeared behind platinum blonde bangs as Hayley’s eyes widened. She’d straightened up in her seat across from Brendon’s desk and was peering at the CEO with an expression that suggested the thought was a _bad idea._  

“Yeah?” Brendon retorted, eyes briefly flickering away from the astonished Eurasian and examining his attire for the day. Considering he’d been in the office since sunrise, his suit jacket was now abandoned on a hook at the other end of the expanse office and a light blue button down hugged his torso. “Is there a problem?”

“Brendon..” Hayley began, clearly choosing her words carefully. “..you wear this _to work._ ” 

“And for some dinners.” He added on, eyes now back on his computer screen, the topic of conversation losing his interest by the second. He was surprisingly ahead of emails considering it was a Monday -- though he assumed he could attribute that to the pending date that evening. He didn’t want to be late.

“Yeah, but-” Hayley continued, clearly not willing to let the topic slide. “-this isn’t just _some dinner_..” Then she was leaning forward in her seat, voice lowered as if worried someone were listening in. “..It’s a _date_.” 

“Okay.. relax.” Brendon was murmuring, fingers now rapidly typing away a response to a particular email. “It’s not like Harry will notice. You were just saying how he could barely get a suit on himself-”

“Why can’t you ever enjoy anything?” She was cutting him off with a sigh at this, her locked iPad meeting her lap in exasperation as her long locks danced in waves, cascading down her back. “You always have to ruin the mood. It wouldn’t hurt to be a bit _excited_ for once. Maybe even a bit _nervous_.” 

“I have no reason to be anxious.” Brendon paused his email-writing and leaned back in his expensive seat, the cushioned leather adjusting to accommodate. “It’s Harry and dinner at a place I’ve been to a thousand times.”

This was true.

He’d expected to be hit with something resembling nerves over the course of the few days following when they’d made the plans, however everything going on in the office had effectively stolen his attention.

He prided himself on being able to separate his work life from his personal one. 

Hayley didn’t respond to this. Though clearly still exasperated, the assistant merely pushed herself out of her seat and made her exit.

Impressively, Brendon managed to get all of his work done by half-past five which gave him plenty of time to freshen up and suffer through London traffic in order to get to Harry’s college. What was supposed to be a twenty minute drive ended up being thirty, and by the time he was pulling up, it was exactly six o’clock on the dot. As promised.

Silently grateful for the fact that his Escalade had tinted windows, his eyes aimlessly scanned the crowd. Though, it wasn’t the _students_ the CEO was particularly interested in.

Just one in particular.

Long, brunette locks danced in the wind some distance away as Harry emerged from the technologies building. His head was lowered against the biting cold and a heavy-looking backpack slung over his shoulder. He brought the chill in with him as he tugged open the passenger side door of the large, black car and cheeks visibly pink from the cold as he shut it once safely inside.

“I look ridiculous.”

“You don’t. You look good.” Brendon had been prepared for the comment, more than aware by now of how uncomfortable these sort of situations made him.

“This suit costs more than everything I own _all_ together.” The student retorted stubbornly, and Brendon could feel determined eyes boring into the side of his head as he pulled out of the parking lot of the college.

“Not everything..” Brendon continued, not entirely sure why he enjoyed riling the twenty-year-old up as much as he did, but not questioning it. “Your laptop definitely costs more.”

“Okay-that’s..” Harry began defensively -- as expected -- stuttering over his speech in what he could only assume was an attempt to get an onslaught of responses out at once. “.. _that_ doesn’t count.  _You_ paid for that.”

“And I paid for this.” He gestured towards the suit currently hugging the Brit’s figure before turning onto another street. “So what’s the problem?”

From the silence that followed, Brendon figured the student was either rethinking his argument or giving up. By the question that followed, the latter seemed to be true.

“Can you at least tell me where we’re going?”

At this, Brendon’s lips curled into the smallest smile. “You probably aren’t familiar with it.”

“Tell me anyway." 

“The Dorchester.”

“The _what_?” 

At this response in particular, Brendon was briefly tearing his gaze away from the road to eye Harry who was staring at him with an expression of mingled exasperation and surprise.

“It’s just some-”

“No, I _know_ what it is.” The Brit was cutting him off firmly. “Alain Ducasse? Only one of the most celebrated chefs of our time? _His_ restaurant?”

“Well, yeah.” Entirely amused, Brendon’s eyes frequently flickered between the road and the astonished student beside him. “I assume you’ve heard of him?” 

“ _Heard of him?_ ” Harry continued. “I swiped one of his cookbooks from the library, we pirated his documentary, he’s _legendary._ ”

To his slight surprise, the Brit spent the remainder of the ten-minute drive raving about the restauranter, the onslaught of information only coming to a halt once the luxury hotel came into view. This seemed to do the trick in quieting the twenty-year-old who proceeded to spend a considerable amount of time admiring the property. He was only breaking the silence as they pulled into the short queue for valet parking. 

“This is..” He tore his eyes away from the entrance area which was littered with people right in Brendon’s social class. “B..”

“It’ll be fine.” He cut Harry off without hesitation, reaching outwards to make contact with him for the first time that night, gentle fingers running over a sharp jawline. “We have a private room, so-” 

“A _private_ room? B..” This seemed to do the complete opposite than intended, Harry’s eyebrows disappearing behind his growing locks. “How much did this all _cost_?” 

“Don’t worry about it-”

“Each chair _alone_ has to be -- like -- at least a hundred euros _each_ and-”

“Harry-”

“That’s not even taking into account all the _courses_ and-”

_“Harry-”_

“To get a _private_ room as well-” 

 _“Listen.”_ Brendon had reached out at that point, taking the student’s chin with gentle fingers and forcing their eyes to meet. Harry’s lips stopped moving though he knew the Brit was still thinking of the numbers aspect of their evening. “This is about you and me. I couldn’t give the _slightest_ crap about courses and meal checks and extra billing. I just chose this place because it’s quiet and familiar.”

“Quiet and _familiar_..” Harry emphasized the last word with a slight scoff, though his expression had softened from apprehension to understanding. “I know.. and I appreciate it.” He was continuing after a beat of silence. “I’m sorry, I just..”

“I know.” Brendon cut him off in a gentler tone, chestnut eyes searching green till the sound of a car honking was stealing his attention. They queue had moved up and he merely shot the impatient passenger a glance in his rearview mirror before pulling up to the front of the building. “Thank you.” He was telling the valet as Harry trotted around to his side of the vehicle and Brendon slipped the uniformed male a tip along with his keys before being gestured inside by a greeter.

“Welcome to _Alain Ducasse --_ here at The Dorchester.” The pretty woman’s eyes flickered between the pair of them before lingering on him specifically. “Pleasure to see you again, Mister Urie. Follow me.. right this way.” Her accent was thick, she was clearly was from France herself -- or at least had been trained in the language for some time now. 

Brendon had been so preoccupied with ensuring no one he personally knew was in the vicinity that he almost forgot to shoot the student a glance. Harry had been walking briskly beside him and his silence had been enough tell that he was clearly taking it all in.

The walls in the large venue were lined hardwood, which met a stark-white ceiling magnificently. Lights had clearly been built-in around the room and each one illuminated a precise object in question, whether it be the tables themselves, the champagne cart pushed against a wall -- and in their case -- a private area reserved for two.

The pretty brunette hostess had led them to the center of the simplistic yet elegant dining area where settled a luminescent oval curtain. Countless fibre optics dropped from ceiling to floor, and the hostess pulled back the curtain to reveal an impressive circular table with two beige, cushioned seats on opposite ends. “Table Lumière.” She presented as the pair slipped into the private dining area. “Hope you’re finding everything up to your standards?” She asked as two busboys seemingly materialized out of nowhere to pull out their seats for them.

“Yeah, it’s great. Thank you.” Brendon was murmuring swiftly as the busboys vanished from sight.

“I’ll have a server right with you in a minute.” She continued, sidestepping what seemed to be on cue as one of the busboys returned with a cart containing a champagne cooler stacked high with ice and three different bottles, and on the side precisely two champagne glasses. “In the meantime, can we interest you in canapés along with one of our vintages?”

“Here we have a eighteen-twenty Juglar Cuvee..” The busboy held the bottle on the farthest left up. “..an eighteen-forty-one Veuve Clicquot..” Then the middle bottle before holding up the last. “..and finally, a nineteen-fifty-nine Dom Perignon."

“Canapés are fine along with the Dom Perignon..” Brendon retorted mindlessly, eyes fixed on the linen napkin he was spreading across his lap. “..and leave the bottle.”

As the first busboy poured them each a glass, the second materialized once again, placing a plate of hors d'oeuvres in the middle before they both were evaporating from sight. Then the hostess was speaking up again, “And we’ll have that server here for you in just a minute.” Before disappearing through the illuminated curtain.

Brendon had reached forward for his glass of champagne and had finally shifted his attention back to the Brit across from him. As expected, Harry was still donning the wide-eyed look he generally would when encountered with _higher living._

“You alright?” 

“Hm?” Emerald eyes had been flickering between the curtain separating them from the other guests and their muffled chatter, to the finger food at the center of the table, then the silverware, before finally resting on him. “Yeah, I’m alright. This is just..” He trailed off into a silence Brendon wasn’t planning on interrupting. He seemed to have caught onto this, because soon he was expanding. “You live like this? Like..” He seemed to be struggling with the correct words. “The hostess had mentioned you’ve been here before?”

“Mhm.” Brendon nodded as he placed his glass down, fingers this time in search for an hors d'oeuvre.

“How many times?”

“Um..” Then he was shrugging, eyes fixed on the puff pastries he was now piling onto his personal, tiny plate. “..a handful? Come here for business meetings.. business _deals_.. pointless parties some colleagues throw on occasion..” Then he was popping the decadent food in his mouth. 

Harry’s eyebrows had vanished beneath his styled fringe, expression clearly that of disbelief. His hair was longer than it had been the last time he’d seen him over a week ago, the curls now exaggerated waves now coming to rest just above his shoulders. 

“You need a haircut.” 

“So this is like.. common for you?” Harry continued, clearly ignoring his comment. He still hadn’t touched neither the champagne glass nor the appetizer.

“I mean.. yeah.” Brendon responded lazily. “You’re not hungry?”

“Hungry?” 

“The appetizer.” Brendon gestured towards the middle of the table and Harry’s eyes traveled from his own to the hors d'oeuvres. He seemed to only just realize it was there. “Ever had canapé?” Though he already knew the answer.

Harry was shaking his head. “No.. does it have fish?”

“You allergic?” 

“No, just don’t really fancy it..”

“What sort of fish _have_ you had?” Brendon asked as he reached for his champagne glass, and he leisurely brought it to his lips once again. 

Harry seemed to be deliberating his answer, eyes flickering from the luminescent curtain back to him again. Then he was answering. “Fish sticks..”

Before Brendon could comment on this, Harry was reaching forward anyway, and after awkwardly grasping at the puff pastry, he popped it between his lips in a similar manner. He watched the student chew for a moment, giving him time to explore the flavor, and was on the verge of asking what he thought when he noticed the Brit’s expression contort from curiosity to surprise. 

“This is.. bloody hell..”

“Still not into fish?” He couldn’t help but ask, lips curling into a knowing smile.

“They clearly know what they’re doing..” Harry murmured in an undertone that carried, and Brendon watched him pile a few more onto his plate. It was as he was inhaling his fourth one that he seemed to realize he was thirsty, and a moan similar to the one that escaped his lips before was filling the air. “This _wine_..”

“It’s champagne, but..” Brendon shrugged casually, an amused smile littering his features.

“Whatever it is, it’s _brilliant_.”

“Hello, my name is Eloise, and I’ll be your server this evening.” The curtain had been pulled back and a pretty blonde slipped her way in. Her hair was pulled into an intricate bun and almond, sapphire eyes were framed by extremely long lashes. Dimples peeked through as she smiled at the pair, attention flickering between them both. “For the first course, we’ll be presenting Seared Duck Foie Gras, along with wild rocket and fresh apricot. Can I get you more canapé in the meantime?”

At this question, Brendon was shooting Harry a glance. Eloise followed this, eyes flickering to the college student who resembled a deer in headlights. “That’d be great. Thank you.” He resorted to answering when it looked like the Brit wouldn’t be capable of forming a response himself. 

“We’ll have that right out for you.” Eloise grasped at the champagne bottle in the center of the table and poured more into their respective glasses before vanishing from sight. 

“First course..” Harry finally murmured after a beat. “..she mentioned it being the _first_ course?”

“Mhm.”

“Of how many?” Harry had just finished swallowing the last puff pastry, having devoured five of the seven in record time, which probably contributed to why he wasn’t able to respond when asked just moments later. 

“Probably..” Brendon racked his brain for the memory of his last dinner here. “Six? Seven?” 

 _“Seven?”_ Harry seemed to choke on the swig of champagne he’d taken. “But that’s _so_ much _food_.”

“It isn’t, really.” Brendon shared, setting the fork and knife on the plate in a manner that silently indicated that he was done with his own appetizer. “The servings aren’t that big.”

“So it _is_ like the movies..” Harry murmured in another undertone, seemingly answering some internal query he’d had.

“How are you?” Brendon asked as he watched the Brit drain the small serving of champagne that’d been poured into his glass once again. “How are classes so far?”

This topic was clearly one Harry had not been looking forward to discussing, the wonder littering his features melting into slight resignation. “S’alright.." 

When he didn’t expand, Brendon cut in. “Just alright?” 

“I mean..” The twenty-year-old trailed off, eyes wandering the expensive silverware littering the table as if mulling something over before surprisingly bursting into a tirade. “..physics is _tough_.” Brendon’s lips curled into a smile. “I’m convinced my professor hates me, because he _constantly_ goes _too fast_ and the line’s practically _out_ the _door_ during office hours.. Maths is impossible, pretty sure I signed up for the wrong one. Computers is computers--a load of gibberish--and I barely have any time to enjoy art in my free time because I _have none_." 

As he went into extensive detail on each of his courses and the professors’ personal vendetta against him specifically as a student, Brendon’s eyes had only briefly left him to grasp at the glass of champagne. Though he was _supposed_ to be listening, he found all his attention had shifted to the student’s features instead.

He was pretty. 

Though his hair was getting to a questionable length, the Brit still managed to pull it off, the brunette waves framing his face nicely. His emerald eyes seemed to pop under the intimate lighting and eyebrows were as thick as ever, especially pronounced now that they were in a tight furrow. What was also surprising to notice was the tiny bit of facial hair now making itself at home above his upper lip. It had been barely noticeable at first, though now, having gotten a better look at the student, it made him seem older. 

More mature.

This, added with the expensive suit made the twenty-year-old look far more put together than Brendon ever remembered seeing him. “..Reckon I should just drop out while I still have the remainder of my wits about me..” He was being dragged back to the present at the very end of the student’s rant.

“Drop out? Is it that bad?”

“B, I’m _so_ lost..” Harry seemed to have taken initiative this time, reaching for the bottle of champagne and helping himself to more.

“You’ll be even more disoriented if you keep up that pace, hun.” He couldn’t help but tease, eyes following the Brit’s movements as he filled his glass with a serving far more generous than the server would have.

“Yeah, this is pretty strong..” Dimples peeked through as Harry grinned guiltily and set the bottle back down. “Sure this is wine?”

“It’s champagne, but-” 

“What’s the difference?”

“Um..” Brendon grappled for a simple version of the answer. “..the fermentation process.”

“Okay, stop there.” Harry cut in before taking another sip. “It’s _so_ strong.”

“It’s vintage.”

“You say that as if I’m supposed to understand what it means.” Harry shot back just as sassily, and Brendon couldn’t help but grin once again. “What’s so funny?”

“Hm?”

“You’ve just been..” Then the student was growing more visibly shy, shrugging at first before deciding on completing the statement. “.. _smiley_ lately..” At this comment, Brendon watched him -- partially to mull over his response though mostly because it was entertaining to watch the Brit squirm in his seat. 

“You look really handsome tonight.” There it was. Harry’s cheeks darkened considerably, though emerald eyes hadn’t left his. 

“You think so?” 

“I do.” Perhaps it was the champagne, maybe the intimate lighting and private atmosphere, but the evening was making him feel particularly honest. “You’re -- hands-down -- the prettiest person I’ve ever had the pleasure of meeting. Inside and out.” 

Brendon had thought he’d seen the worst of Harry’s blushing, though apparently the mere comment had proved him sorely wrong. His entire face was turning a deep shade of crimson at this point and the Brit had resorted to fingering at the expensive silverware in an excuse to break eye contact. 

It was adorable, to say the least.

“More canapé..” Eloise had returned at that precise moment with a fresh plate of appetizers. “..and the first course will be out in just a few minutes!” Noticing Brendon’s silverware, she placed it closer to Harry before grabbing his own plate along with silverware and parting.

The rest of the meal went on pleasantly. Brendon had resorted to water for the remainder of the evening, seeing as he was the one driving them home, though he didn’t discourage Harry from drinking any further. The student barely made it through half the champagne bottle, though seeing as he rarely drank, it still had quite an effect on him. 

The conversation varied from Harry’s family and how they were currently doing, to the range of entrees they’d be presented with, to whatever topic seemed to take hold of the Brit’s intoxicated mind -- even Brexit had come up, surprisingly enough.

By the time they were enjoying dessert, Harry had transitioned to water, though Brendon could tell he was still considerably tipsy from the expression of utter adoration that stayed etched across his pretty features every time he had the Brit’s attention -- which was a pretty much constant at that point. 

“D’you listen to music?” 

“Hm? Yeah.” Brendon had been pulling out of the driveway following the Escalade being brought to them via valet. 

“What d’you listen to?” Harry was now fiddling with the radio tuner, and Brendon was almost positive at the rate he was switching channels, he wouldn’t settle on one by the time they reached Rathbone Square in ten minutes. 

“Um.. anything.” Brendon was shrugging lazily.

“What’s your favorite song?”

“I don’t have one.” 

“You _don’t_ have one?”

He could hear the astonishment in the student’s voice. “Well.. not really. Don’t really listen to music.” 

“Like _ever?_ ”

“Never ever.”

“What d’you listen to in the gym?”

Exponentially more patient when it came to Harry’s interrogations by that point, Brendon merely shook his head. “Don’t listen to anything.”

“Okay, you can’t _hate_ music-”

“I don’t _hate_ it-”

“But you don’t have a favorite song?”

“Well-" 

“You’re starting to sound like the actual Grinch, love-” 

“I _have_ music on my phone.” Brendon murmured defensively, pulling his iPhone out of his pocket once he reached a stop sign and connecting it to bluetooth before clicking on the first track that popped up in his library -- his most recently purchased song. 

As the first few notes played, he set his phone down in the nook underneath the radio and turned the volume up. The mellow tune quickly reminded him of why the song had caught his attention in the first place. 

It was calming. 

“Water.. by..” Harry squinted, leaning forward in the dark car as he struggled to decipher the name of the artist. “..Jack.. Garratt.”

Instead of responding, Brendon let the song speak for itself -- and to his slight surprise, Harry had fallen silent as well. As they neared the more central part of downtown London, he spared the student a glance only to realize that he was being watched. 

“What are you thinking about?” He found himself asking, not taken off-guard by the fact that he was being stared at -- more so the expression that had been on his face. 

“You.” Harry murmured quietly, significantly calmer than he had been once they’d gotten in the vehicle a few minutes prior.

“Good things, I hope.” He shot back playfully, though before either of them could say more, he was pulling into the front of the complex where Tom was waiting out front, ready to park the vehicle. 

The ride up had been a strangely silent affair, though Brendon figured he could attribute to the fact that Harry had spent the entire elevator trip gazing down at London with that same wonder and awe. 

As they entered the penthouse, Brendon removed his coat, only to find Milo waiting expectantly on the kitchen counter in view of the lift. He brought the cat into his arms though when he turned around, ready to find Harry en route to them both, he was surprised to see him lingering at the terrace door instead.  

“Everything okay?” He was setting Milo down moments later and approaching the student who seemed to be drawn to something outside. 

“Yeah, um..” Then the student was tearing his gaze away from the view and meeting his own. “..I know it’s cold out, but..”

“But what?” Brendon pressed gently when he visibly hesitated.

Harry eyed him for a moment before continuing. “Can we sit?” 

“Outside?”

“Yeah.” 

Brendon wasn’t sure what made him comply. Perhaps it was the innocent urgency in the Brit’s expression or maybe the strangeness of the request, but twenty minutes later, he found himself out of the suit and in more comfortable clothes, slaving over the mini fireplace that had replaced the small table in the center of the terrace. The wind was biting, though thankfully it wasn’t snowing.

“So..” Harry had emerged just as the fire was growing, arms full of blankets of various sorts. “..this should be alright.” He’d changed into joggers as well -- one of Brendon’s, of course -- along with a hoodie of his he’d found and thick socks. “I won’t freeze, but you might.” He added in a teasing tone as he set the blankets down on a cushioned, lounge chair. 

“I’ll be okay.”

“Would you like some tea? I’m about to brew a pot.”

An additional ten minutes had passed by the time Harry was situating the blankets, two mugs of piping hot earl grey sat steaming from mugs on a small table and Brendon had sunk into a lounge chair. 

“Room for one more?” 

Harry’s question had taken him off guard. He had been expecting the Brit to squat in the chair on the opposite side of the small table holding their beverages, but he’d hovered instead in front of the one he himself had settled in.

“Uh, sure.” Unsure of what he had planned, Brendon merely let the twenty-year-old make himself at home. In the end, Harry proceeded to part his legs a little wider so he could settle in between Brendon’s thighs, then cocooned them in the sea of blankets and throws he’d commandeered from somewhere in the penthouse.

“Comfortable?” Harry’s voice floated towards him and Brendon was surprised with his own answer.

“Yeah.” Then he was shooting it back. “You?" 

“Super cozy, yeah.” 

Brendon then briefly wondered if the Brit was still under the influence but decided against asking. The air was strangely quiet despite the hubbub still going on several floors down and the lights from neighboring buildings illuminated the night in a manner far more breathtaking than he’d remembered noticing before.

“Can you hold me?”

Brendon’s eyes flickered from the view to the bundle of brunette locks pressed against his jaw. The student had broken the silence and it took him a moment to realize his arms had been situated on the rests of the cushioned, luxury lounge chair. As opposed to around him. 

“Yeah.” He was tucking them under the blankets a moment later and found Harry’s warm torso. The Brit leaned back against him as he did this, and normally Brendon would find this kind of closeness irritating, but now he didn’t seem to mind so much. 

“It’s pretty out here.” Due to their cuddled position, he could feel the student shiver following this particular comment and wrapped his arms around him more securely.

“Yeah, it is.” Brendon murmured back. Then he was following an urge, “You know..”

“Hm?” 

“I’ve never actually.. like.. _sat_ out here before.” He’d lived there for half a decade and didn’t have a single memory of spending leisure time out on this terrace.

“Really?” He could hear the genuine surprise in the Brit’s voice. “But it’s gorgeous out here..”

“I know.”

“How long have you lived here?” As Harry asked this next question, he was bundling the blankets closer to him, then Brendon could feel his restless fingers find his own. The student’s thumb began to rub over his own comfortingly. 

“Five years.”

“All on your own?”

“Yeah.”

Then he was falling silent. Brendon had a nagging urge to ask what he was thinking, but it wasn’t necessary. Harry was adding on a moment later.

“That’s.. lonely..” Instead of breaking the silence, Brendon allowed it to grow around them. It wasn’t uncomfortable, quite the opposite really, and Harry’s restless thumb kept him steady. “You know, I’d never seen London like this till you brought me up here.” Harry’s voice was hushed, as if worried someone would overhear. “Had a lot of firsts with you, actually.”  

“Yeah?” Brendon wasn’t intentionally trying to be so _unengaging_. The subject matter was on he wasn’t well-versed in discussing. _Firsts_. “Hope I haven’t completely ruined your view of this place..”

“You haven’t!” This Harry stated more enthusiastically, brunette locks bouncing as he shook his head. He was squirming in his seat and craning his neck in an attempt to lock eyes, this action reminding Brendon oddly of times his nieces and nephews would make themselves at home in his lap.

“You sure?”

“Yeah, no, like..” As Harry trailed off, clearly deep in thought, a gust of wind blew and he was involuntarily shivering. The fire provided nice warmth, he was sure the elements would’ve been unbearable without it. “..I was _so_ ignorant a few months ago. Not sure if you could tell.” Brendon tried his best not to look _too_ agreeing. “You’ve.. shown me a lot.” 

It was strange. Any other time, the CEO would’ve accepted the selfless credit without hesitation. But something wasn’t sitting right with him. “I didn’t show you _much_.”

“B..” A lock or two hit Brendon’s face as the student shook his head in disagreement. “..I was barely getting by last year-”

“But you _were_ getting by.” He couldn’t resist the urge to cut Harry off then and there. “And I don’t want you to think I _‘swooped’_ in and saved the day, because I didn’t. I just.. lightened the load.” 

Brendon had been fully prepared for the student to shrug off the statement or glaze over the topic, but as the few seconds of silence stretched on, he was instead filled with slight worry. A part of him was convinced he’d overstepped again, that his tone had come off as more condescending than uplifting. The Brit’s thumbs were still dancing over his knuckles however, which he could only take as a good sign.

And as the quiet settled around them, save for the flickering of the fireplace and the quiet hubbub of traffic below, he could feel the student sink ever so slightly in the cocoon created by his arms.

“Just..” Harry’s voice was finally melting into the air, though there wasn’t the slightest hint of annoyance detectable in his tone. “..thank you.”


End file.
